At daylight's gate

Each day there comes a time when night is nigh,

When thoughts turn melancholic and subdued,

For then the pains of day will soon pass by,

And slumbers mask the hurts that would intrude.

The evening hours are purple, blue and grey,

The shades of night turn silver by the moon.

The painful thoughts that razor’d sharp the day,

Will hide, short hours, that fleeting, pass too soon.

However hard we seek the night’s cool gaze,

We cannot hide our worries from our sight,

For time, relentless, marches on and on.

No stars can cast adrift the sun’s bright rays,

The sins we seek to hide are bathed in light,

And any hope of sympathy is gone.

(c) 2ndwitch (11/09/10)