Night falls fast

Night falls fast
as drizzle drains
the last lethargic light
from an ink and marble sky.

A woeful winter waste
of dry electric heat and light,
returns the ragged vision
of a minor moon.

The dread of dim dank
entrapped evenings
haunts the commute
home.

The sound
of trundling traffic
skimming past
in wet weather.

Jets of spray reflecting
rivers of rain,
joy crumples, sorrow runs down-
tear stained window panes.

The street flows
in red and orange glow,
sounds of bells and silent nights
the rush of commerce passing by.

Memories of warm days
are tucked away
in attics and file boxes,
ticket stubs and photographs.

But now December looms,
the threat of forced family
joviality. The years do not
make it bearable

Reflections
in shop windows
a dull old man
stares back at me

A mirage
of goals achieved
the ghost that inhabits
corrupted flesh

The dash of youth
consumed in haste

-dave kavanagh

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