At Evenfall

Hold to the fact
that you will find
ever a patient word
uttered in a cautious mind;
Deep though it wends
into the narrow streets
of all we'd imagine
and try never with to sleep.
So lovers, they embark
on worlds so dreamed up;
and in their distant laugh
it is cherished in a brimming cup.
Yet cups can only hold
what into them is poured
and dreams only matter
when embellished in full accord.
What did I envision,
or could I have thought;
love has little meaning
until, like a fish it is caught.
The clocks are in agreement
as on the hour they chime;
life has every meaning
and searching is no crime.
But finding is another thing,
and if you do, some hope will sing;
for in this chorus a harmonious fact
of what is real and what is lacked.
A heart peddles its wares about
as one and all give in to doubt;
whilst love proves it can't be bought,
its gloaming hides beneath our thoughts.
Author's Note
Inspired by 'As I Walked Out One Evening' by W. H. Auden, written for the 'In Memory Of W. B. Yeats' comp
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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