Through the black, empty stillness of night
Shines a tableau, a framed square of light…
Curtain drawn to one side,
A stage lit, there, inside…
And she enters, ghost-like… he takes fright!
She unfastens her robe, lets it fall,
And stands, naked and dignified, tall,
Black hair loose, to her waist,
Slender, poised, angel-faced,
Pale skin, full breasts firm, though not small.
She turns, moves, as if drawn by his will,
To the window, stands, touching the sill…
She stares into the void…
He stands still, his heart, buoyed,
Pounds within him, mad rapturous thrill!
Rooted, awed, spellbound… how can this be?
Her fixed gaze, searching… what does she see?
Her right hand cups one breast…
Then her left, fingers pressed…
As if clutched by a man such as he.
Her eyes close, a long sigh, her lips part…
Lonely longing, which wounds his rapt heart…
Her head bows, shoulders droop…
Her profound tragic stoop,
Poignant pose, statuesque living art.
Then she turns, her gaze shifting away…
His whole being, fraught, wills her to stay…
He should cry out, proclaim
Helpless love… but strange shame
Binds him, mute, stricken, lost, feet of clay.
She departs, and he falls to his knees…
Her light gone, vision lost… still he sees
Her there, almost in reach,
And he mute, robbed of speech…
He stands, trembling, and haltingly flees.