The Hollow
Empty
are the roads,
the cars,
the shop windows,
the streets
and alleyways
that led to the old stone church
at the top
of the hill,
even the avenue
of trees
are abandoned
by the wind,
for solitary stands
beside silence
and all
is shut
all is still
And as the
shadows slip
from the shoulders
of darkness,
into the blindness
of the approaching
dreams
of night,
struggling
with the climb
to the stars
the last wings
of dusk
reflect
a rising moon
in the upper windows,
of day
and light
And below
all is quiet,
all is silent,
the clouds
have spoken,
a thousand
thousand
words
in a flood
of goodbyes
for this evening,
the sky has broken,
in tears
the farewell
of summer,
a last glimmer
of laughter
in her closing dream
of autumn’s eyes
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p1964km@googlemail.com
