The evening opens like a peach cut in half
Nature born on the river of blue lights
and progress drifts east with a compass in hand
A fixed thought is forgotten
by the lure of secret windows offering a better view
Only momentarily, yet too long
Already half the silence and when I come back
What is this image I see?
It is not what I left in the hands of chance to take care of
The evening is a rivers' divide
and anticipation is the frail glass we hold full to the brim
of pride
Be careful and do not trip, we have counted each drop along the lines of loss
and find we cannot afford to have confessionary hearts freely bleed
This evening awaits the night
Let beauty linger under the street lamp,
interrupted by the inopportune mouth of time
We feign indifference and rely on the amnesiac mornings
to erase and make long memories out of evening's almost forgotten
promise.
The night closes in like claws hidden under the shadow of a velvet glove
Drawing blood from the surrender of the eternally damning invite
Its divine sweetness, rising from the death of laughter
The evening becomes desire's divide
No longer is what we lost, what we hope to find
With paper and pen in hand we watch and despair over time's ability
to move to the next hour
There are only so many near misses we can allow chance to make
Before the evening's fragrance begins to sour
and anticipation starts to taste like regret
and isn't that what brought us to the river's path
in the first place
Before promises of truths and glimpses into colour
fooled the hearts
and now you and I
watch the evening open like a stubborn wound
And in whose hands, shall we leave history to slip by?
and while the moon fights the night
I think I shall depart to, from where I came
But in between distances, and the river's divide
The shadow of your evening's blue cannot escape my eyes.