Twilight, Alongside

A tale, incomplete

At a bistro, that Friday eve,

even wistful chords assumed rare grace.

Dimmed lamps and worn settees,

her pallid gaze enshrouded their space.

I was tardy, twilight as ever,

I stepped in to meet her light.

The gleam of her eyes met mine,

and ere boast, I confronted my fright.

I sat on the cusp of discourse,

when the murmuring lights withdrew;

in the next breath, beneath a vaulted sky,

mist waltzed with the moon’s hue.

The city lay hushed and vacant,

as neon and sodium cascaded the streets;

crickets emerged from whispered shadows,

and I, a nomad, strolled in measured beats.

Night deepened over the town,

yet the moon burned brighter in her smiles—

each time a gentle zephyr danced,

dry leaves murmured along the miles.

Our stroll reached the radiant east,

and laughter mellowed in the gloaming,

until when I courted her,

what twilight scorned compelled us

to wander divergent labyrinths.