Edge of Darkness


Edge of Darkness

And so the tailor arrives yet again,
Bringing with her reams of darkest cloth,
Weaving blues into shimmering grains,
Of sapphire, opal and the blackest of,
Midnight steel,

Creeping amongst the hedgerows do l spy,
The tailor and her entwining wares,
Silently gliding over the lands of day,
Watching and waiting to ensnare,
The dying sun with zeal,

Weary and tired is the horizon,
Edging the darkness on,
Awaiting eagerly the spinning of yarns,
Knowing that time drifting into the night upon,
Is looking to kneel,

Time now being chased far away,
As the tailor within does so appear,
Bading goodnight to the remnants of this day,
Melting into the space between bravado and fear,
Sunset doth she steal,

And so it begins to wane,
The colours of the night time day,
Easing into the edges of darkness pain,
As the first of the yarns spins away,
The night time cogs start to squeal,

Gentle sapphire doth start to settle,
Blending slowly into darkening opal,
Opening up like a ripened petal,
And closing again as the boastful,
Midnight steel merges upon the wheel,

Night time colours collecting together,
To make the display complete,
Darkness now covers the sky’s weather,
And the colours three no longer compete,
For darkness is here now and real,

The tailor, smiles in satisfaction,
Her task again done for the night,
Whisking off across the blackened,
Edges of time, aiming for another bright,
Day, looking to close the sunset deal.

Β© Rory Matier 2012


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