Wednesday, May 22, 2019

Atalie Rachael writes

As The Afternoon Dies

As the afternoon dies,
so then do my eyes.
For even the young
Grow weary, friend.

Yet as the afternoon dies,
night comes by surprise
to tell us all:
Another time is at end
and the wild must be
put away.
Minus the sorrows
to be kept for another day.

Stores and shops
stood bravely to the dark,
and rolling skies
announce ‘tis blightful March.

All past is beyond
this very very hour,
so hush the laughs and the cries
as the afternoon dies.
 Image result for dusk paintings
 Going Home at Dusk -- John Atkinson Grimshaw

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