Petulant in season and out, eyes that taunt the lion
Dark eyes, pools to drift in, wells to sink in, after the light,
Framing your face in a fall of locks —black Autumn, down by the locks,
Setting out and forth; setting aside the lines against your smile.
Your eyes avoid me like orbiting moons. You’re pulling back your hair,
Lips like dancing a slow cabaret, gently hiding starlight.