Dusk til Dawn

A mosaic of peach and pink scatter amongst the smog,
the brilliant ball of fire can no longer be seen,
it's rays leave a lambent glow,
that sparkles but for a moment.
Burning chemicals slowly mute to black.
The robin's aria has died away,
as the crickets interpose just in time for the third act.
The lights are out.
The curtain that rose hours ago,
has yet to fall.
Suspense escalates.
What is on the bill?
Will there be a comedy?
A tragedy?
A love story...
or will there again be horror?
I await the flood of misty light,
for my dreams to take stage,
sweeping me far away from here...

Some one has missed their cue.
There is no fade in,
no whimsical characters are born,
no more music softens my breath.
The air is dead... choking... silent....

Bored, my thoughts start spinning,
the hurricane of attention deficit is merciless.
The sun will not rise for hours,
what seems like days,
yet i remain knowing it will come.
I am the watchman on the last watch of the night,
as most nights.
I eagerly await the dawn,
confident of it's arrival.
Nearsighted, i loiter til daybreak,
thinking this will save me.
My light grasp has allowed The
by nature Pure Blood
trickle through my fingers.
I let it slip down the back of my hand,
slither beyond my wrist,
and cascade from my elbow.

My feeble mind has yet again forgotten,
a Love more faithful than the morning.