Night's Theatre

Sunset sunlight cocoons

enthralls the sky maroon 

the blushing clouds of dunes

farewells the sun too soon 

And loving light so lunar, 

violet descending in layers 

from red to blue to grayer, 

dusk is night's own foyer 

into a shadowed theatre 

where the actors are strange ghosts 

and the walls are wholly lost 

and open full, how odd 

and the play is almost start 

and the acts are things long gone 

but remembered still, how odd! 

And curtains of shade may draw close 

on this play, and wedding doves be divorce's crows 

of which I wouldn't know, 

since time loves that dust devours 

and changes the way we remember our hours

but some nights, when the sun creeps low

and candles wane to little blows 

I visit that theatre, and see the ghosts act 

and remember things long gone that I am.