When the sun sinks into the sea
–a candle snuffed out suddenly–
the silhouettes of palm trees darken
against the fading colours of the sky.
Their leaves become black as crow feathers–
old-fashioned feather quills
writing poetry upon the earth’s dome
among the shooting stars.
That lonely hour
between the day and night
between the dark and light
that lonely hour is here
The darkness–not yet complete–
the day–bittersweet–flying away
What could have been or should have been
is over now
My heart’s afloat in this no man’s land
between hanging on, letting go and giving in
accepting that the day was enough
Evening falls on sleepy-eyed dreams of tomorrow
Solitude surrounds me
this lonely hour
How beautifully the day dies
with slow and solemn gracefulness
Each cherished moment
revealing golden glory
Day taking her time
to say her wordless goodbye
And blushing gently
as her heart melts
into the evening sky
Just East Of Crazy Land 