Affair

The matron's brisk steps press at my heels, harsh clear sounds in the still night. She does not appreciate my dallying and her insistent gait behind me spurns me forward down the narrow walk. I jig back a step and let her march before me, her shoulders square and resolute. I pause to look up at the inky batik sky and freckling of stars and smile a secretive smile of mute adoration. O, let this lovers' tryst be taken as idlery. Let minds and tongues of the brisk and orderly scorn me. Tear me down; only do not trespass upon my nights' courting. Tear me down; only rend me not blind.