Afterglow Is the Best of Lights
Some flower in the twilight,
the dark does not assault them
they succumb upon a dusky breath.
How unlike is the glaring light?
How it enslaves and pinions
each stem with a fiery eye.
Love mesmerized
yearns for the dark coverlets,
the secrecy of eventides.
Those brief nocturnal shallows
can hide a sorrow,
make you smile like the last rays
of a dying sun.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2022
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