Pause

He'll pause, when she gives him that certain look,
And turns her head as she anticipates
Descending darkness. He's well aware she rates
More than a passing glance. He's not mistook
The hope that she's suppressed on this cool eve,
When trees and hills and sea will slowly mesh
Beneath the veil of night, where breezes fresh
Will chill her body. Let's not be deceived
And think we know just what will happen next:
For their conjunction is no given fact;
But if he uses guile and not brute force,
Where's the assurance she will not be vexed
By words that lack the right degree of tact,
And cause that certain look to make him pause?