To her eye

Above me, burying

Threatening to devour

A last tiny expanse of sky

Covering almost completely a

Would have been sunset.

And to her eye

It's not solitude of grey

On this night lacking

Accompaniment,

It is right with shades of blue,

Light wisps of rosy pink,

Dance on fields of dark grey;

Reflections from pavements

Of dim neighborhood streetlights,

And dark hues of deep violet,

Mix within her stare

She spends the rest of time

As the wardrobe covering the

Delicate vulnerable moon.