Form: American Sonnet
His presence lingers in the crimson hues
A tender warmth before the coming night
The day is closing in these vibrant views
And soon the stars will share my foolish dreams
And thus my pen begins to slowly write
The echoes of a day and other themes
A musing poet has found inner sight
For darkness falls and words begin to play
In daylight hours only frustration screams
As I can’t find the things I want to say
The chaos of life like white water streams
Goes past to fast; yet now my thoughts take flight
I embrace time at the end of the day
A tender warmth before the coming night
©JG Farmer 2019
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