The dusk brings
Some mysterious peace
A stillness
Quite deep

Could it be
Because
It's that time
When I head home

Home
Where I am
accepted
And loved

Loved
As I am
Accepted
As I am.

And that brings
So much peace
To be
As I am.

Yet the sun sets
Whispering farewell
Bringing some sadness
As well.

Covering my battered soul with a grin,
And I carry my longing to meet you soon in my spirits,
Maybe you'd heal my scars with your touch,
No, the timing have to match,
Yes, I have to wait,
If it means confronting the bruises on my body of someone's hate,
You will come won't you?
It's the least thing I expect life to do,
Granting the exemption,
To reach the day of explanation,
Yet here I wait for my closure,
What's that you ask?
My death, My life's dusk.

as fleeting as a coelacanth
and made of tender amaranth,
in jaded hues of pale rosé,
the day's frail beauty soon decays.

to capture the grace of flaming dusk,
one has to peel dawn's unyielding husk.
a barely visible wonderland,
never to stay but never to end.

© fey (31/12/19)

Hopes hang high, fatigue fails and flickers.
An adventure awaits.
Dawn does disappear; duly, daylight's discovered.

As dusk falls
and night conquers yet again
I dream of dawn.