Disillusionment with love - Part IV of III

Sundown


All day long I wait for your shadow
on the wall; now night turns into day-
light, turns long and slow, and purple-cool, now it is dusk; and fall
nightfall floats gently down again. The trees are aglow with the deep
sadness of waiting; slow as a long flame starting a leaf catches fire
and blazes alight, crackling in the static cool
of autumnal air. The green ones watch petulantly, its lonely brown burning:
there is a halo to love. A light that catches the split grass, even
reflects off the shimmery wings of bees, cuts like glass through the orb
of your eye;
that slow burning of an ache in the soul. The sky has swollen
with light absorbed, fluorescent, soaking up the last vestiges
of spilled day- oh where does shadow end and light begin?

In the hollow of my palm a burnt-out leaf
floats down to final rest, and already the dawn light is breaking;
swift from the cauldron of night’s underbelly
A shadow leaps and rises
to the wall-