By Darren Sempie
Darkness deepens sending colour around the room,
Too late to see the still, moving picture
Which stares with closed eyes and waits
Waits for the time to come while
Drifting from the time that has
Just passed in haze, smoke
Figures, landscape, landscape, figure
Eye deceived like ever sense
Grace winds flirt with common dress
Flesh brave against pale
Seasick skies
Spoke in whispered rhymes just near
The soul but never touching brain
When sounds of wings, of mountain
Kings ask you to come to stand with him
To look with him, to age with him
Beneath the dying light,
Beside the amber flicker of
Dying light.
