Beautiful, the Night
She captures my lingering gaze when rising in epoch sight
to sit upon her regal throne... comes the bewitching night
Never appearing before my eyes as less than perfection
Each hour's passing, heightens the aura of her complexion
I do not fear her shadowed darkness as she hovers e'er long
In her honor, I compose poems, lyrical words as in a song
"She begins blooming at twilight, like sweet jasmine on a hill
Soothing my spiritual soul with warmth when the air is chill
She welcomes the nightingale's song, and the cry of a loon
Reveling in the golden light of Autumn's full harvest moon
Crickets chirp and fireflies glow the moment she appears
She's a black backdrop to showcase fireworks at New Years
To lovers, her beauty sparks the opportunity for romance
Tender kisses and sensual touches are all part of the dance
Some talk of a 'bewitching hour,' but the hands of a clock
do not govern the night until there's the crowing of a cock
Moonlight exposes nightfall, on a pitch canvas it will paint
with brushstrokes of starlight on an ebon sky until the faint
light of dawn awakens the sun, "Rise and dry morning dew.
The night's reign is over and patiently she waits for you."
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