Old Night

Ever since he entered the ball, all eyes had been on him. 

Whether it was his crystal eyes that captured every maiden, 

Or his hair that reminds me of the night, that night that would be remembered, 

Or his smile that captivates the moonlight even at such a distance, 

Something about him made me never forget that night.

Compare me to him, brown and plain,

My eyes a dull blue without life nor vigor,

Yet he turned to me, and offered his hand,

I am hyperventilating, yet only in the inside.

I must appear calm, that's what I said to myself.

I could still remember the last time I met him.

We were in a fight, and he left.

He left me all alone, to cope up with broken pieces.

And now here he is, smiling, finally at home.

His wife came from behind him, and looked at me.

Pure disgust that was what I thought I would find.

But it was only just unshed tears and understanding.

I pulled myself up through my cane,

My wrinkled hands grasped his shoulders,

"I'm proud of you, my son."