Please respect that this poetry is my own work and therefore copyright rules apply.
Day withers into leaden dusk and all the lonely shadows thus
Abound, drained of their rose and greenery.
Night blooms with spectres perse and all the wraiths that light
Abhor, delighting in the gloom.
Long is the darkened void that spreads it wings as if to cloy and
Strangle, iced fingers at our throats.
Still becomes the wind that has shaken sadness from the trees and turned
Them all to cinder by the winding path.
So do we long for the bright thread of dawn that teases all the dread
Murk, into happy bird song.
But night sustains his hold of blackened, smudgy pitch that stains
The wide sky overhead, but for a star of molten gold.