I rewrote this piece from my poem SIGHTS AND SOUNDS OF DUSK.
I could not imagine a favorable out come for this bland dusty Evening. I began to write attempting to temper the atmosphere With lyrical flare. This blank page is blank no more, filled with words my heart begs for My pen to strike again with words of two or more if few will be my honor. Tell me how to begin? I'll scream it from the pews if you dare. Wind blew the filthy air. I couldn't see through the thickened dust. As the weary king bowed in its lurid sky It's dusk The clouds are a shy DUSTY BLUE I stop and stand. I stare mystified by this poem of sorted glory. Skip stones at river's edge From the liquid ledge Watching over the hill pass the lavender meadow Weeds grew where the old sugar factory used to be With sweetness on its hills. Taste the morning air, every time, breaths of it still there The fresh of it spared to cheer I tell my pen fill every lonesome space never have it bare. The day was fair. Darkness loomed the flare grew dim. At last this PACE I cheered. I say to myself cherish the smile which loiters near. Chase a tear In a blink the day is down. Another day lays in patients One more twilight settling in Dusk is stalling. harp strings Serenade the dusk The evening's falling Listen to the EVENING SLIDING IN THE AUTUMN WIND
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