Saturday, December 20, 2014

In The Violet Hour

©  Steve King 2014
All Rights Reserved

Unseen through any fold of shadow,
near, yet ever out of reach—
I had hoped the one dream
might linger and appease.

But faint as a far tremor
sifting through loose sands:
the echoes of those vesper notes,
like water through my hands.

I shall reach for nearer things,
embrace them as I can.

Lost amid strange twilight times,
let all the dreams be damned.