At dusk
You are a drop of blood on the horizon.
Your light is dim, the world grows dark,
and you cast disproportionately long
shadows where your light once shone.
Your warmth has waned, the world grows cold,
and the last piece of ice loosened by your heat
slides off the roof in a rushing whisper.
At dusk
You fall behind the line of trees on hills.
You are missing and you are missed
in this water-coloured
world of
black, white, and grey earth, and crimson sky.
You are missing and you are missed
and clouds like smears of molten lead
are dark stains on red velvet.
At last
as dusk melts into twilight,
the cold, red glow you leave behind
softens, and freezes into darkness.
