| Evensong- April 1997 The blessed warmth of day is done But few will miss its garish light Why mourn the loss of midday sun When heralding the silver night? I weave my tune by starlight's song My fingers tapping endlessly My feet are sore, the day was long, But in this darkness, I am free. My inspiration flees, unsung While daring me to break its hold The words lie dormant on my tongue As brilliant stories fast grow cold. The sunrise gleams like faded hemp And streetlamps stain the colors red I flip the switch on deskside lamp And crawl back to my tumbled bed. |