Long stary nights

I long for a peaceful night, one as serene and radiant as a full moon.

My imagination drifts, painting a soothing picture:
How lovely it would be if you lived nearby.
We could hear the same airplanes passing overhead.
I’d whisper, “Did you hear that?”
And you’d reply, “Yes.”

You wouldn’t need to untangle maps to find which one I meant,
but it was sweet that you always did.

I’ve dreamed of the day you’d sit beside me,
teaching me to recognize those distant planes in the night sky,
the ones that carried my wishes and dreams.
“If it flickers once, it’s the big one,” you’d say.
“And if it flickers twice…”
But let’s keep that a secret, just between us.

With their blinking lights,
you showed me how to distinguish each one,
turning the vast, starry canvas into a map of secrets
only we could understand.

With your secret, you shared something else-
a warmth no sun could ever offer,
a feeling that settles softly,
lighting my world like the quiet glow of the moon.

Summer hardly fazes me - the burning sensation, the short nights.
The planes fade from the vast skies, and warmth holds no allure.
I’m already burning, after all. Instead, I long for winter.

But winter, too, is cruel.
I miss the warmth, a kind no fire can satisfy.
In those endless nights under the stars and sky,
I ache for our conversations, for your presence.

Even if it was just a whisper carried by the air,
it brought you closer across the miles.
Yet it could never carry your warmth when you left.

So, alas, my life spins in this endless circle.
I yearn for winter in summer’s blaze,
and in winter’s chill,
my heart burns from your absence.