A Few Minutes Before Midnight Poem by Christian Crisostomo

A few minutes before midnight
I bid you an uncertain good night
The coldness and darkness of the night
embraced my longing soul

I long for your voice, for your touch, and your smile
I missed you in every second of our conversation,
on every well-formed sound of your candid tongue.
Those lovely arrangements of tones of your voice
were continuously playing again and again in my head
and had become the only song that I know.

How I wish I were your soft pillow
so that I can hold the weight of your head
and take care of it throughout your sleep.
How I wish I were your blanket
so that I can give you my warmth.

A few minutes before midnight
the moon is hiding his presence;
then suddenly the rain fall down untimely,
I can still feel your voice like a dew in the dawn.

I can feel the touch of your hands
like the air that I breathe in and out;
I can see you dancing like the trees
outside my discreet and firm window.

It seems that you are the lamp beside me
who give the light that I need to write;
Your flux enlightened my soul!
Words and ink were binded by your shadow;
Like air, like us—binded by fate!

A few minutes before midnight
I take you in my endless dreams;
You are so close as my arms in my shoulder,
so close as I fall asleep—you are beside me!