A match struck, and in the darkness, a candle,
glowing upon her face, in the dim lit quarters near her bed.
He lay still, as she touched him, he did not wake,
unaware of the loneliness that filled her head.
She disappeared into the hall, following it to another room
with her sleeping child, placed a kiss upon the forehead,
and continued on down the old stairs,
to a large room and the comforts of a chair, softly cushioned red.
The fountain pen flowing upon the textured paper,
a journal to which she poured herself into, in unbridaled emotion,
in the essence of what she had expected love to grant,
and where upon she set her devotion.
Shadows upon the window,
she emerged to look upon, the trees swaying in the world outside,
in dance, the branch, from which leaves were falling,
scattering upon the earth below, she quietly sighed.
The moon lit the sculptures in the garden,
now solemnly unattended, and quietly the candle burned.
A mirror reflected her figure as she passed, a glance upon herself,
and within her minds eye, as her lids closed in thought, her heart yearned.
The door opened in the wind outside,
to which she stepped to feel the soft touches upon the night air,
sitting upon the grass below the old oak, she dreamed in romantic smiles,
and a soft kiss of raindrops fell upon her lips, as though love was there.
A smile in her heart, as she layed upon the lush cool grass,
looking upon the stars connecting infinitely in the skies above,
clouds drifting by, as the owl took flight upon night,
a place to which her soul, knew of a true love.