the bringing-down of day

Upon the bridge, light and liquid seem to mingle glassily.

If I smoked, I’d light one up to add something to the ambience. Nothing like a framed scene imbued with cliches.

It is not uncommon for a very simple, crude rhyme to enter my head in such moments; When the air is almost cold, almost warm, and the melody of a sax busker carries on the breeze to lend meaning to a couple kissing in the distance…

Still set your sights on mountain-tops,
On distant, star-washed lands?
It is not, ’tis not for you -
Without, the night has hurried in,
And huddles by your hand.

Stir once more upon your seat;
Sigh again and stand;
Unmake your woes as like to when
The tide unmakes the journey
Of  surging, shore-bound sands.

Live them out, these twilight hours
Of closing words,
Of thoughts and failing light:
Unmake the bringing-down of day
To a starry, long-sought night.

 

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