Tender and Sharp and Bright

A dream for another night, impatient for winter, and how I want it to be.

               She is tall and proud, from the place beyond the forests and the fog.

               Kindle some distant dream of love, of finding myself in her arms at night.

 

               The bar is loud and bright, but we have some quiet time to speak,

               As another table roars for the game, and swears rise from another.

               I can make the noise and light and flashing fall away, looking at her.

 

               My beer not even half-finished. My food eaten. The night coming.

               We’ve chatted about our worlds, and what brought to this place.

               I dream of her in a dark velvet dress, in the fog bound and ancient forests.

 

               And I look one last time into those eyes, tender and sharp and bright.

               She smiles, and it seems worth it, all the trouble to come her to see her.

               Kindle some distant dream of love, of finding myself in her arms at night.

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