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The Night Goes by Quick
March 16, 2014
Golden hues behind the dark horizon.
A majestic time before the night.
Clutching my suitcase
as if it were my own unborn child.
Icy mist lingering in the air.
A welcoming that hurts,
and stings like no other.
Deep in my guts of grime
I could feel that
the few that who knew my name,
were gone just like
the single magpie that flew.
The golden was gone.
The rain started to pour.
And I cried out what to do.
Why couldn't I be gone like them too.
© Alicia S., Bethesda, MD
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