The night is gazing over, delicately yet lush
in a narrowed path by the meadow, filthy yet spry
where a little hidden blue eyes, cold but did survived
looked up for another twilight, in beauty but unjust
it's little auburn eyebrows, muddy yet defined
Furrowed slowly in bright light, dreadful but alright
thinking of what things to conquer, ignorant yet will pry
and the events that will take them for granted, addled yet aspires
when hunger and thirst relinquish, empty but will trance
they wait for another night lamp, asleep yet alive