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.

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