nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson)

THE PERFUME FADES

A deep sigh
Presses twilight
Ribboned flames
Of dying sun
Winter sky
Elopes with
Fading moments
Night has come.

A familiar echo
Past and present
Ripples bittersweet
Upon the air 
The moon it has
A solemn face
The hour forgot
To comb its hair.

Ragged are
The memories
A falling deck
Of cards
The perfume fades
In silent rooms
Wrapped in solitude
Who cares ?