The darkness is a sultry mistress

The darkness is a sultry mistress

The darkness is a sultry mistress
and tonight she’s come protesting
in an unkempt wind that scatters
sprays of fine black rain so cold
against the passive window.
Why she’s like this I couldn’t say,
neither why I have to love her
who keeps me so undemanding,
stalled inside her wicked tantrum,
seeming to make me a promise
that there’ll never be young sunlight
coming back one day in Springtime.
For she knows that I’m her secret,
that I’m stranded here without her
with stories of shipwrecks and blizzards
and fearful of release.