Albert Ahearn


Dusk


A drowsy sun has closed his eye
Leaving me in tinted twilight
Hemorrhaging color by degrees
until I stood in blue-black night.
Dusk is the darkest of twilight
where sights and sounds become adverse:
a contrived unreality,
imagination unrehearsed
and interspersed with primal fears.
Harmless shadows act out phantoms
conjured deep within my psyche.
Howls and hoots: night sounds most fearsome
Quasi-influential fancy
when dusk attains ascendancy.

Submitted: Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Topic of this poem: Verse


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