Saturday, September 20

Midnight Dew

The eyes across the room from me
do not behold monstrosities
that some men make, so they are fake;
they reek of this reality.

The lips of that man over there
do not speak false, though neither fair,
and while they smile, they don’t beguile
one who's watchful of their snare.

That face that holds such beauty true
does with a glance enrapture you,
yet do not play your delicate days
dipping your heads in midnight dew.

If in the morning wakes the sun
whilst you had only dreaming done,
you’ll miss your chance, and circumstance
will make your end 'ere it's begun.

No comments:

Post a Comment