Poetry

Now December

The blood red color of the setting sun.
In a pastel haze of a day that’s done.
Now that all our games have been laid to rest
I’m left to wonder if we’d done our best
I delve the past for some small subdued clue
To find among these facts the one that’s true
Were all these moments, dreams and words pretend?
What had I done that you did so offend?
Dreams now fade away away away away
Like the warmth of light at the end of day
This night goes on and on and on and on.
As I wade here with my thoughts until dawn
     And yet for all the unforeseen that’s past
     I have my doubts that this time is the last.