Twilight stumbles into the room
As awkwardly as a wrong note echoing
Between two lovers until then lost in the moment.
Extinguishing the heated passion of day
With a chill kiss, the reality of night.
Perception altered by the diminishing perspective.
The colours, the shades, the textures,
The edge of things, lost in the blur
Diminishing as the clock creaks and the hour sneaks on.
© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Made of sticks and stones 