Twilights
Poem
Published on January 11, 2021
Twilights
Poem
How many twilights must the soul cross,
The seasons of transition that press upon
Each haggard hour leaving the past undone.
The new moments burden me with dross,
Of sombre melancholy unfolding slowly.
The keen ear forlornly awaits the voice
That would mark course on these waters,
Till then the days must go on plodding dully.
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