PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

It wasn't ever dreary,
or cause for pause and gawking.
It was just a sunset -
just the death of day.
Rafters capture daylight,
house it until morning.
Lamps along the parkways
awaken with the dark.
Oaks and birches, bells on churches,
every waking body walking on the street,
ingesting all the faded glow
and mourn the passing hours.
I watch from rented windowsills
and act upon my whimsy,
lifting shades for cats to clamor
and climb to fill his heart's content.
Solitude is voluntary,
though it really never was.
I'd pay my weight in molten gold
for an equal made of mercy.
'Til the changes come to tumble,
the sky will draw all my attention
as it falls from astral hinges,
paving way for werewolf kin.