These dreamless nights

under the California moon,

my heart sinks further, as my prayers

don’t seem to reach my ángel de la guarda.

My spirit—defeated,

but some hope remains

that one day,

the sweet melody of

the coqui frogs,

native to my island,

will reach in from my window

once more.

The California sun is as warm as ever,

but I miss

the Puerto Rico rain.