The Stolen Moonlight In The Pool Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Softest convictions in a spyglass keeping
Time with anyone, and then looking away while
Holding her hand;
And you can see across the entire yard, how little
And beautiful it is- this space that the sunlight floods
Over,
And the traffic comes in ribbons heading home,
And afterwards- when there is that silent emptiness,
And moonlight with silver fireworks in the park,
And a softer light across the man-made lakes
And canals,
Then your convictions are in a ferris wheel of your
Senses that have gone asleep in the castanet of your ribs-
The better words, and the girls you once loved,
Slipped off to other beds in other states;
But your wife is back at home, her hair curling around her
Yellow shoulders,
Her eyes bathing with the stolen moonlight in the pool,
In the sorcery which cajoles you home.