The flight of a bird
Cuts through the still air of twilight in Lorca
A sliver of moon
Young bright and crescent is overhead
With a turn of the earth
The sun is submerged, until tomorrow
Deep night crystal sky
Star drift with it's points of light
Sparks from a holy fire, in flight
In the constellations overhead
I search for my old friend
Where he went I was never quite sure
He was loved, disappeared
And was seen no more
A spark from a holy fire in flight