The Word for Writers

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End of day


In these last fading lights of receding day
When darkness is just about coming in,
Tranquil room assumes a darker shade of light fleeing
Shadows barely discerned in approaching shades of receding light gently fading out-

It is that time when there is that blustery din
As if every creature in nature
Shakes and rouse themselves, just one more time
Before kismet long lie-in ahead-

It is that time when blustering din of increasing traffic
Indicates diurnal return journey
of weary souls let loose
Making their pall way home, to rest, maybe-

When a door bangs and footsteps rattle on dusky quiet stairs,
When your eye needs more light
When staccato classical station has become a talk show
It is that time of parting day-

Somewhere a weary hand reaches out
And rolls curtains a slant downward to filter in more light
A bright new world I see through these slats,
Catching fleeting pale before dusk-

Orange skies,
How the sky lights up
One last time before darkness-

These wide vistas of uninterrupted space
No brown bricks and tedious monotony of regularly spaced rectangles
Just wide panoptic wan of sky, stretching as it were without end-

The big city has lost its charm
Out there in that wide canvas
Emotions paint their poetry of small and big things; ever changing scenarios-

Size is not a limitation;
It’s all in your mind and open sky,
This soft and tender closeness stretching beyond touch and on forever-

Expanse of infinity in soft tones,
Calmness unperturbed by discomfit harry on earth below,
Joy of closing day in silent exultation-

A heart beat in syncopation with that big wide blue above,
Peace like restorative refreshing renewals of cool springs
Far other end of emotional desert of over-activity here beneath-

I am just a face,
Turned upwards, heavenwards,
Looking through these slats up, to these last lights of gentle joy enabled by a Creator most wonderful-

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