A fragment, by a Poet

"She was an entertaining creature, one I had not encountered for divers months, and I was simply compelled by the beguiling hunt. And as she intimidated me, I kept my distance, standing as she sat and as we spoke, of our past romances; I joked, about threats to jeopardise her integrity. I was not one to adore such a thing, but between the incongruity of who I had thought she was, and the smoke she had pulled from her purse, now held between her fingers:

She was fascinating.

I saw only the contours of her face, outlines of the shadows cast at soft angles by the moonlight. I was blessed from time to time, only by the long drag of the cigarette she was smoking: I saw her face illumed. The smoke escaping her lips, like an organism in somnambulant dance, sipped up into the ether of the dark hours above us; of the early morning.

I retired alone.

Now in daylight, I find myself chasing up what had gone, and what had died with the night. Mourning the life of a thrill that had lasted only the span between moonrise and moonset."