Dusk

The sun prepares to go. Good guest, he smiles
At everyone. They find they're bathed in golden
Light, and cheered at last, despite the wounds
And provocations of this altogether ordinary day.
Should we produce our ledgers and examine them,
We'd surely find that each of us has spiraled
Downward, on our ways to penury, today. For now,
That doesn't matter. What does is the sun's
Departure. How he pleases us each time
He leaves.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 32 times
Written on 2020-10-01 at 02:06

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