At Last

 

How long left to glow
Like a light left on
An eye in the sun
Shutting a window

Shadow faces behind panes
Glassy features turn to rain
Wind blown places weather vanes
Ghostly whistle of a train

Limbs of trees straining low
With charcoal fingers grasp
Paper kingdoms follow
Rows of letters to clasp

As birth and death do form a bow
The present gift received for past
For only light is there to know
And only night remains at last





Poetry by Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2024-05-09 at 00:32

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Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
"And only night remains at last" I sincerely hope not. :(
An interesting poem though. Very thought provoking.
Blessings, Allen
2024-05-09