more than midnight

she was more,
than a first stolen glance,
or the meeting of midnight
with warm brandy
swirling in snifters.

she was as soft as a sunirse
with childlike eyes,
of pale whispers and prayers
to the harvest of clouds.

to many raindrops
to clutter,
into tiny pools of darkness
where downpours
spare no rhthym,
and seeping puddles
cannot dance.

she was romance,
and the warm kiss
of a petals blush,
more than the mere rush
of meeting at midnight

she
was
love,
that needs
the comfort
of two pillows,
found content
into the hope
of tomorrow's
sunrise.