You look most charming in half-light, my love;

Not to say you aren't beautiful in the glare

Of the afternoon sun, or in the floodlights

Of all the stadiums I've known you to frequent.

But nothing could compare to the soft way

In which the candlelight skilfully picks out

The contours of this face so dear to me,

Or the ghostly glow of your eyes, my love,

In the shimmer of a midnight pool,

Dancing along the banks

In a moon-garment you wear on your shoulders.

What good is the sun that overwhelms?

When in the glow of an oil lamp

Your hair, your mouth, are made exquisite.

What use are all the umbrella lights in the world

That make you look so stiff, my love?

When the dying of the embers

Leaves whole universes in your eyes.

For if taking all of you in at once is a delight,

Then savouring every part of you, one by one

Is, was, and always shall be breathtaking.

So, um, more free verse. I'm actually having fun writing these, because I promised myself to write as honestly as I could and express whatever little thing comes to mind. Still haven't a clue what I ought to do with these pieces though.