392. 11/1/16 (#385)
When her words fade into the echoes,
The whispers of night take their place,
They gossip with tongues made of shadows,
And snarling they spit at my face.
When her smile has escaped from my sight,
The wheels of my iron heart slow,
I lose faith in the promise of light,
And reject every reason I know.
When her hand has dropped back to her side,
And ended its too-swift goodbye,
My wish and my choice must divide,
I won't be with her 'til morn's sleepy eyes.