Dwarfed by concrete and steel, I struggle to
catch, to grasp that which has been stolen by
swift phantom hands and soft dying light who
whisper, caress, remind. They draw my eye
to the setting sun, the dying fire,
the phoenix’s last embers burning out.
The day’s enchantment will soon expire.
Lips drawn down, brows furrowing in a pout.
The same spectral breezes tug on my shirt,
Pull me towards the tracks that lead me home.
Night sweeps across the sky in silken skirts,
richly colored, bejewelled with precious stones.
I must hurry. Must leave promptly, before
Night regresses into a ****** *****.