In the quiet of the evening
when all the world’s asleep,
outside my house
the night is dark
and stars cannot be seen.
My spirit tingles with a yearning
for an outstretched hand to grasp,
and a gentle heart to open wide
and hold me in its clasp.

In the quiet of the evening,
when breezes gently blow,
tree branches dance
and softly sway
while shadows hide below.
In silent solitude I ponder
the words to songs I hear,
and with each tuneful melody
sweet memories draw me near.

In the quiet of the evening
when trains go rumbling by,
awakening
the weary heart
that wishes it could fly.
I close my eyes and dream of times
when ocean waves rolled in,
and seagulls called my name to join
their flight against the wind.