Dusk
Ashen, does the ending of a day time faint;
Wallow in self-pity – do hoary shadows loom
Pastel shades over silver ridges all as one constraint
Become a neutral dark with overtones for doom.
Drab of any choice which shall end with our demise
Ancient relics all of us, grisaille where softly knit,
A summary of canescent streaks to distant skies
Translucent does the metaphor obscure to dimly lit.
Bleak, the murky views of vapours tread our trail
Towards the deep sunk crevice known to many;
As suffering slates with charcoal etch the tale
Regretful misdemeanours, until there isn't any.
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