Dasim

Late

The evening’s mantle

Dense at first,

Becomes a light breeze.

It whispers a tale of

Steps taken and not taken,

Tears shed and not shed.

Prayers offered and promises broken,

Words spoken and not spoken.

Some meant to heal or hurt.

Timeworn angers, old sorrows,

Distant truths and desires

No longer heavy with passion,

Lie under an indifferent, forgetful dust.

And the heart suddenly knows

That it is time to smile.

Because only love is left.