Maybe we were forbidden lovers in a previous life,

Or born into a strange taboo

That our generation cannot comprehend.

A night bird flies against the grain at dusk.

It hurts to make it home before dark,

But as the days grow shorter,

The night bird, forbidden, loves her 

More and more and more.

The canopy of the clouds holds rain.

The rain holds a sweet darkness.

Goodnight bird just has enough time to stop

To buy a loaf of bread and some wine

And maybe just one bottle of champagne

So his wide smile can disguise 

Itself among the bright bubbles

And never give itself away

Midst winter's gray.

-jenn