Your eyes are in the soft moonlight,
My window's blessed with gentle gaze;
Though it be folly of twilight,
I do delude myself in grays,
For I'm thinking of you.
My hand does sketch your face with care,
Caressing nail on the desk,
To wipe your cheek and hair I dare,
All gentle fiction sans grotesque,
For I'm thinking of you.
There's remedy for solitude
In thought of what is truly dear.
So lone at night does me elude:
You are beside me, just so clear,
When I'm thinking of you.
But thought alone cannot suffice
For burning love and all her sores.
Though in my heart does live this vice,
I think my joy is matched by yours
That I'm now here with you.