Night is a beautiful lady indeed,
who I'd fall in love with easily.
She is alluring, strong-willed, calming,
and all that a man would need.
As I lie down in bed, and think
of what to say, she only smiles her
furtive smile, reiterates her desire
for me to stop rambling with a finger
on my lips.
Indistinct words sail in her dark elegance,
exhausted they may be, like the furniture
in my bedroom, I refuse to give up,
wanting to give something of meaning
to equal this eternal lady.
Then gracefully she closes her fingers
right over my eyes, blacking out what remain
of the bedroom and my thoughts, whispering
nothingness in prayer to wind down
the mind to a close, passing me as dead.