At Dusk

A. Christine Myers
1 min readSep 14, 2019
Sunset, image © the author

When the sunset light is red and heavy,
When the moonrise blinks behind the haze,
When my heart is weary, weak, unready
For the pain of unremembered days,

Days that drift like smoke above the water;
Days that lie behind and days before,
Memory and hope alike may falter
In the dusk that whispers, ‘Evermore;’

And I answer, ‘No, for nevermore
Shall I be the ghost that lingers, panting,
For the warmth and sunlight long implored.
Look past sunset, past the midnight’s haunting;
Sun herself will warm with gentle rays;
Tomorrow’s shall be kinder than today’s.’