Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Dusk, Dark, Cold



By David Roth
© 29th November, 2011

It’s dusk
in a bleak November sky
and December’s standing by
but I swear I don’t know why
the darkness comes
to a tiny room
where a single soul
waits the coming gloom
with a heart that’s empty
as a tomb
alone at dusk.

It’s dark
on a moonless autumn eve
winter’s chill begins to weave
what the faithful still believe
and the snow flies fast
on a wind-swept field
over shadows cast
never giving way
ever forced to yield
to the frozen breath
that Decembers wield
in the dark.

Cold,
near frozen
chilled,
near froze
still becomes
as stealth has chose
bleak the sullen
dark falls close
when the ‘ber of Novem
stirs to Decem
ber
at dusk
t’ward night
where it’s cold.
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