The moon was peeping from the folds,
The sky was a crimson as the layers behold.
The sun had yet to call it a day,
The clouds knew they had no say.
Not today,
Anyway.

In the midst of this, there was a hiss
Of conscience striking compassion
And yielding little, but no return.

Love had already wooed Her.
So had Fidelity.
Stability stood like an unrequited lover,
Knew it would be – if at all – a chance encounter.

Worldly pleasures stared right at her,
Waiting for that blink-a-moment from that veneer,
Where Practicality met Pragmatism
In another world this would’ve been their own prism.

Would she?
Would she not?

Give silly, simple Love a chance,
And let him hold Her for a dance.

Let him feel the knots in her hair,
The magic in her 2-minute-long stare.
The music in her eyes
And his fingers entwining in her wavy curls.

Love today would be returned
And he would not behave like a lover spurned.

He had hope, he had faith.

There was little to despair.

Some days were good
Some days great,
But the day he dreamt
Were actually the best.