Taskmaster Time
The rosy sun has gone to bed
leaving me awake and all alone
upon this mountain where I sit staring
at the twilight sky yawning to stars,
pricking at the sky’s deep purple canopy.
Give me longer arms to grasp time’s
swift hands slowing his perpetual clocking rounds . . .
somewhere weary hearts must find such space;
the rosy sun has gone to bed.
Copyright, October 24, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
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