Nightfall
T Tom Billsborough
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Coloratura of sunset gardens.
the last soprano of sunlight
Then fingers of the dubious night
With stalking shadows crying out
"Forever, " pull down the curtain
Of the tragic opera.
Senza tema d'infamia, I may whisper
But am I right to assume conclusion
To my Spirit. The currency of doubt
Was nurtured from an early age,
and like the weeds persist
despite the constant plucking
Of my reasoning,
And Chance may rule that I shall meet my Maker.
Bu şiiri puanla
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