Dusk

Closest to the last ray of the departing sun, the flickering
shadow of trees on the ground I stand.
All around is silence, waiting, listening.
Whatever games they play it hardly matters anymore.
Not while standing on this ground of earth and dead
leaves, watching the shadows
go flicker, flicker. While the sky drapes itself in changing colors the wind
whips up a rhythm. Rustling leaves
all around above me. A rustic melody. Of things not of this world but
maybe one that lies beyond where the sun sets.

Standing there my heart learns to want all the things it could
not understand and feel as though I have to have wings
at the cost of my soul.
Leaves crackled, trampled on. I know the newcomer without taking my eyes
off the vanishing light in the west. He walks up beside me
He does not see
the dreams of another world in the horizon like I do. Only the fleeting
wistful sigh of the wind betrays my reverie.

The world is now void of sun, color and warmth, but it matters not. I have
not just a dream, but a reality.
Curtains down on another day

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