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