Four O'Clock in May

The clock tower chimes across the quiet courtyard,

A lonely count of four o'clock in May.

I stretch my hand out to the empty bench seat,

Where we would linger at the end of day.

The shadows stretch like memories across the pavement,

Fading softly as the sunlight dies.

I trace the lines of every old dream we built,

Underneath the endless evening skies.

If I scream your name into the pouring rainstorm,

Will the storm wash away this heavy ache?

We were promises carved into wooden desks,

Now I'm counting every step I shouldn't take.

The cherry blossoms drift on muddy puddles,

Swirling slowly down the quiet drain.

I’m left here holding onto ghost-filled hours,

Learning how to love you through the pain.

Your favorite sweater sits inside my closet,

Carrying a scent that starts to fade away.

I listen to the radio at midnight,

Hoping for the song

you used to play.

You used to tell me every storm would pass us,

Leaving behind a clear and open sky.

So why am I still caught beneath the dark clouds,

Without a single chance to say goodbye?

The world turns silent in the blue of twilight,

A movie rolling to its final frame.

I close my eyes and listen for your footsteps,

Call out to the wind and hear your name.

The rain subsides into the cool night air.

I pull my jacket tight against the chill.

Goodbye to all the tomorrows we envisioned...

Standing on this quiet,

empty hill.