The Late Hours

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Loneliness in late evening

When the fingers of clocks seem like they’ve stopped

and a figure in the room

Is no one

A loneliness that holds on your arm in an icy embrace

And the shadows are long

And the daylight is absent

Nothing moves

But time is always

Slipping by

And you open your eyes

In Octobers surprise

And feel more cold and empty

Than seasonal

As the autumn leaves all

Seem colorless

And you sit pending

As the very state of being

Seems so abstract

Hanging in the balance of a liquid

That keeps the mind suppressed

And allows those moments, deeply depressed

Passing by

Like water under a bridge

Watch the self in a mirror

Changing by the hour

bright color flowers the happiness of days

but the dark blue violets scream the late hours….

 

 

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