Nine-thirty on a Saturday night
Dusk becoming night,
The sky is clear, the wind warm,
Almost calm - a hint of summer’s wonder
Nights like these are strewn with crushed hearts,
Tears of happiness, tears of sorrow,
And golden, infinite possibilities -
Love is in the air, so thick you can taste it
I watch this scene of the grand play
From my window - I’m in the audience,
A mere spectator.
All the world’s a stage, they say -
And we are merely players.
That is, except me.