Delusion Of Evening Poem by John Tansey

Delusions of Eveing

Evening comes. My self-delusion
stirs the synapses
with a steaming cup of coffee.
A dimly lit oil lamp
shrouded with Saffron scarf
casts the room in an amber hue
with subtle shapes in the shadows
while words as gold ingots on the page
forming this poem
with an alchemic blaze.

Morning rises, lighting the gray room
dispelling truth
from every fold of darkness
to a sterile whiteness
that turning back
such atomic weight of words
into leaden blocks of stone
I wake, both bleary eyed and blood shot,
into this failed, pale bleak
truth of morning

John Tansey