For An Arcane Girl

FOR AN ARCANE GIRL Being the salutary art that you are, I wonder, as any troubadour would, what opus is in those eyes of yours. Like the last coin in a gambler's hand, you present unseen fortune, and an end, indifferently. Alone in a crowd, or accompanied by mem'ries, I find, undismayed, adoration in your plight. The moon, Eternity's insomniac, whistles some falsetto accord for your reverence that's heard as only the wind. Suppose the Nighttime reached out and cupped your dreams, hoping the sun will never ignite the sky again- would you sleep languidly, or would you satiate another day?