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Look...See how long nights are drawing in.
Dreary birdsong gradually abates -
Opaque dusk grows dim;
And just outside the creaky little garden
Stood opposite the empty wood
Where the vacant threshold silently awaits,
I pause, when, resonating quietly back...
I now hear...
Far distant echoes of my glorious childhood
Tugging like a Siren upon my ear.
With a heartfelt pang I turn to move,
Before my staring should offend some
Old friends ghost
To manifest in vengeful affright,
Towards the comforting sanctuary proffered
By the warm kitchens weak neon light...
That sneaks out from behind the half-shut
But held - Transfixed!
Brought from wither-not-where to this one
Small place - Staid...
As if caught in a state of heavenly grace,
Conversing to the soft wind in harmonious
Thus soothes like enchantments waves...
Rolling gently up to repeatedly break upon
Magical banks girdling Nivians lakeshore.
For what be this odd muse
That upon my aging senses does so readily
And to my inner soul so inextricably
Ahhh...But this much I may be allowed to
Before darkly gathering skies extinguish
Over weak flames of the last spluttering
Perhaps it is our inner voice
That seeks out the solitudes of
Tranquilities choice -
To witness and record and dutifully store...
Those rare and fleeting moments
We all too briefly adore.
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