Marcy

As the shadows grow longer,
And it turns to a later hour,
The sun’s rays seem to spotlight,
A solitary flower,
Maybe even just a weed,
But it;s alive on the sunlight’s stage,
And when that spotlight fades away,
We can turn another page.
 
 
The night time comes in no hurry,
It takes it’s good old time,
For in this fast and hurried world,
It’s pace is not a crime,
The sun soon starts going lower,
With the horizon it’s final bow,
And there is no way to hurry it,
Even if we want it now.
 
 
In the morning when the sun arises,
An array of colors meets our eyes,
But sunset’s are a famous cousin,
That adorns the night time skies,
Color marks both’s arrival,
It’s as if the sun decides,
That the night times coming and going,
Has to wear a disguise.
 
 
Times divided into daylight and dark,
And at night it’s harder to see,
But shadows live in day and night,
And in those shadows dreams roam free.
At times there’s comfort in the darkness,
Though at times it fills us with dread,
Since we need them both to live,
Is fear an empty thought in our heads.
 
 
We see all the things around us,
But in the daylight we also feel warm,
Is there some conflict between day and night,
Is just one of them the norm,
Are you safe in light or darkness,
Do you feel threatened in the light,
Or do you somehow find comfort,
In the coming of the night.

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