I look at you in the aftermath of smoky blue nights,
When the dancing's been done
And the wineglasses are quiet,
Touching the wet air, cold in my palms,
While you pull your solitude round your shoulders.

I'll look away till you're finished,
Till you say it's alright.

I'll count the glowing embers in the shadow at your feet,
And the cicadas still calling even though day is near,
And all the 'what if's in my fickle memory.
And I'll bet you'd never know I was here.

I'll come back on my own when the lights begin to fade;
You'll sit out the evening in solemn company,
Burning an anguish I never could see
In pools of echoing sympathy
And the early mockers' seranade.

Content with the new riddle you've made,
You'll look up to greet the day drawing near,
And, just my luck, in that triumphant blaze,
You'll never have to guess I was here.