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The Early Dark
My sun said he’d set too early,
Though at a time he did not know,
And so I prayed his light would stretch.
I raced through the hurly-burly
Of his early noon – Go! Go! Go!
And worked ’til I became a wretch.
Broken and alone, I did roam,
Here and there, aimlessly, I strode,
And thus his afternoon was spent.
At last the evening called me home,
So I returned to my abode
And then began the end’s lament
My sun departed me too soon.
He left for me a life to tend,
And frightful shadows in my sight.
I looked above and saw my moon.
She smiled to me, as to a friend,
“My light’s enough to last the night.”
5 thoughts on “Dusty Poetry #65”
Thank you! I don’t always know what I’m writing about, when I write…. entirely. This started out as a poem about dealing with degenerative blindness but I think there ended up being more layers to it than I intended consciously.
This is how poems play out much of the time. It’s like a drawing; you might not know what it will be until it takes on its own life.
That’s a really good explanation for the process.
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