Though the night tarries, she shines as
diamond bright as she was at dusk.

I have before me a silvered
rendering, one of those snatched at
a fete, not long ago, such as
the Law Lords were wont to of a
season throw. Your head rests slightly
on his knighted shoulder, your lids
half-mast, sheer bliss playing lightly
round your lips; his smile broad, and as
forward and frank in countenance
as his character and outlook.

Copyright 2007 Rosalind Harbin

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