Evening's Sly Comings

By: Peter Walsh

Softly, softly does the night
Approach me all alone.
Silent shadows creeping
Across the paving stone.
Bringing with it coolness,
Breeze's gentle strummings,
To introduce the chilliness
Of evening’s sly comings.

I wonder if I can be so still
I will see the darkness spill
Spirit shadows gently on
My sad and seated form.
It seems that nature’s change
To move from noon to night
Is calculated to derange
My heart's low dimming light.

There’s so little there these days
Since I’ve lost love of you;
And only do my flowers
Chase away the blue.
But now, the evening’s powers
Bring light's banishment;
I no longer see the flowers
But still retain their scent.

Now is when your face
Returns to painfully present
Memories I did not erase....
In my unwilling relinquishment.