The orb of night is pulchritudinous tonight,
And not a breath of life in this house seems to notice.
My eyes on you, Your eyes on me,
Viciously music trapped between the bed and windows;
Innocents tiptoeing along the hall,
And us.
While walking towards your car,
I suppose inferring that:
The orb is pulchritudinous tonight,
But what I decry is meant for self-revelation or not at all.
You look at me and smile.
I will always admire the way you glow is so generous to,
Those unaware of the way she fills my eyes.
A delicate modesty.
You open my door,
And I am thankful;
But can’t help wishing to be with someone who notices that,
The Orb is Pulchritudinous tonight.