Dusk, the hour I embrace For it is a myriad
Of muted tones of me.
.
As with the seasons,
The silent sigh of darkness
Is symbolic of my solitude.
.
I sink into oblivion
Of daylight hours
And all ensueing chaos.
.
My pen and I
Are one within my shadows,
For just that segment of my day.
When I indulge, in the privacy of...me.
.
(c) ZYDHA HART 2004 |
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