Hasten

If twilight birds are on the wing we too, must leave this restful place before the shadows fall to earth. We can no longer hear them sing and moonlight pushes through the lace, preparing for a sudden birth. Imagine what the night could bring as silent stars caress your face and drain you of all hope and mirth. No telling how the dark may sting; the sunset falls from golden grace; remember what the dawn is worth. Hold tight my hand and let us run, the unheard music has begun. Trilonnet Poetry Contest Sponsor: Joseph May Image 4 June 14, 2023