Evening Comes Again
This evening sneers, lurks and is snooty,
and dares to look through my window,
peers like something with substance,
gawps into that mirror on the wall.
Yes, evening, you ogle.
Your black glance is on my glass of wine.
showing your low lordliness,
condescending in your awesome manner of night,
sitting there with your supercilious sight, scoffing, gazing.
Who are you?
When will you cease to be night,
become the radiance that will be tomorrow?
Yet you'll sit throughout that day
awaiting its darkening moments.
Oh, yes, light will soon be you, night,
and scoff at me with your dark, dark face.
(May 2022)
Copyright © Andrew John | Year Posted 2022
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