Bridges of Silence

The silence lengthens, fine as a thread,
between a fallen star and the window of the deserted hotel,
it does not sing, but makes a connection.
The glass catches a trail of light, cold and tender,
the star remains still in the darkness, for a moment,
and the invisible bridge spans between them.
The room is a sea of silence, closed doors, dimmed lights,
the window breathes like a sail of regret,
and the bridge retains the word that never comes.
At dawn, the weight of light rests upon the glass,
silence remains a bridge holding what has been,
and the deserted hotel learns the first breath of light.