Dusk Sun
Give me but a moment
to set aside these books
(the authors all dead),
and we shall go out into this night
strapped together beneath an umbrella.
Pennsylvania hums to the drone of an evening wind.
But we shall listen to the rain
and watch these skittering shadows
find solace in an alley's embrace.
Give me but a moment and we shall go --
we'll watch March rise up on weary bones
and ravage the streets around us.
We shall walk and worry
about the mutterings of a street lamp
and the call of the rain
longing for company.
Drops hold out empty palms and beckon,
but our mouths drip golden coins and refuse to answer.
Give me but a moment
and you shall hear
the low moan of the lights
and the failing day's final sigh.
You will turn to me beneath these clouds
heavy with a song of the sea
and touch my hair, my neck.
We will give up this silence
to the course call of a dying sun.
Copyright © Sam Mayhue | Year Posted 2011
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