As twilight paints the end of day,
 He sits in flickered bursts of gray
Intent on watching others play
 Upon the glowing screen;

But as the players take the field,
 His stark surroundings are revealed
And stir an emptiness concealed
 For something left unseen.

What can it be? He looks around
 And listens for an inkling sound
For what continues to confound
 His strangely troubled mind;

The trappings of his life are there:
 A sofa, lamp, and easy chair...
All leave him keenly unaware
 Of what he yearns to find.

Between his heartbeats, something calls
 From somewhere down the papered halls
Where memories adorn the walls
 And shadows used to dance;

When moments lit by candlelight
 Would linger long into the night
While newborn passions smoldered bright
 On embers of romance.

All through the years devotion burned
 With flames beget of others spurnedó
Their love ablaze from lessons learned
 To ease their pangs of life;

Soon candlelight was rarely seen
 Above the glare of their routine,
Yet love prevailed, although unseen,
 Between the man and wife.

But at this hour the two are paired
 With leisures not uniquely shared,
Which normally would pass uncared
 As just another night;

They hide in their respective nooksó
 He with his sports, she with her books,
Deprived of smiles and knowing looks
 Which sparkle with delight.

That's it! He leaps onto his feet
 To seek who makes the room complete,
When halfway down the hall, they meet...
 She sought to join him there!

Her reading lamp adds gentle glow
 To harshness of his halftime show,
And once again, as long ago,
 In subtle light, they share.