Rendezvous

Blank are her brown eyes
As they stare into the void
Too dark is the night.

For the moon is tired
From her nightly rendezvous
She won’t come tonight.

Crickets, they’re silent
They’ve been told many a time:
Sometimes, songs torment.

Ev’n the oft nice wind
Is in sour mood; tonight a
Bitchy company.

Yet, in the darkness
She sits a-waiting for peace
To hand her its grace.

She lifts a finger
To lips unpainted, unkissed
No sensation there.

She heaves a faint sigh
As she softly shakes her head
A whimper is heard.

Then crystals glisten
Building up then falling down,
Forming a river.

Rolling down the planes
And slopes of her pallid cheeks
Down to her soft neck.

Sad are her brown eyes
When she shut them off the void
This night dared offer.

She too is quite tired
From her daily rendezvous
Yet she came tonight.


Sherma Benosa
7/14/2006 4:25:15 AM