A Little Death (Poetry)

All is set, the hour's barely struck
and she is ready, floating in a cloud
of eau de toilette - a lightly floral scent
that suits her mood, expectant, hopeful luck
will not desert her cause, she prays aloud -
"Sweet Valentine, reveal true love's intent..."

The minutes pass, she fusses with her hair,
wonders if he knows her finger size,
practises a shy, seductive smile,
thinks positive, determined not to stare
at the moving hands and never lifts her eyes
to the traitor clock ticking all the while.

Time drags, then fragile hope begins to drop
like mercury reacting to the chill
as evening greys the corners of her room,
outside the silence grows, the birdsong's stopped
and everything's unnaturally still -
her heart sinks, heavy, plunging into gloom.

It seems the whole world's waiting for a sign -
aware his fickle love has run its course
and all things change - the night wind holds its breath,
the heavens tremble, planets realign
as she curses him, invokes a darker force
to pay him back for passion's lonely death.