September Sixth with a Whisper
The day bled into dusk
as I sat by the window
and watched the sky
fall into shadows.
Trees silhouetted the yard.
Trees silhouetted the yard,
a late day of summer not yet fall
a feeling of nothingness
and I looked out the window
as the day passed with a whisper.
As the day passed with a whisper
the sky turned amber for a moment
and yard lights flickered stars.
A voice whispered
all good children must go inside.
All good children stepped inside
but now a sense of innocence was lost
how I remembered someone I barely knew
had just died three houses down
on the quiet side street.
On a quiet side street
my refuge sought
lost in refection
and the passage of time
as the day bled into dusk.
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