In the evening

In the ending hours of the evening,
When the last rays of the sun
Embrace the light-bathed skyline
Of the city's opulent buildings,
I often stare from my terrace
Upon myself, and upon my thoughts,
Thinking of how the only thing
The city and I lack is you.

In the star drenched moments
When the velvet black curtain
Of the prescient night sky
Drowns the city in a liquor of silence,
I lie awake and cold, hopeful that
Slumber will overcome my frigid soul,
Bringing me and the city a little glimmer of warmth
Through you in my dreams.

In the blinking minutes of the morning,
When the golden rays of the sun
Traverse through the dust of stars and the city
To stream through my window,
I sit awake alone on my bed,
Absent mindedly looking at everything not there,
Aware that the sun and the city are sad
To not find you here.

Reviews

[faryn wolff]

Such beautiful words are used to paint this sorrowful, yearning picture. Every line is vividly felt and seen within the heart and mind. The depictions of the scenery are simply stunning, and the abstract concept of emotion is so poignantly expressed that it is virtually tangible...

You fantastic poet, you! 100/100 :)

[Suditi]

Wow imagery.
The description of the scene is mind blowing.
Great work.

[Michael X]

wow, brilliantly done here, a painted prose and vision of a colbalt dusk.
I absolutely agree with every reviewer here. consistantly brushed words.

[MuSe Ampoule]

Wow, this is a great one! Very well done...I love how you broke out the time in your description of longing...just perfect!

[Coyote Poetry]

A beautiful poem. Great description and story. I like how you described the city and the night. A very good ending to a excellent poem. Thank you.
Coyote

[Dinesh Sairam]

Bless you mate! I almost forgot that I can free-verse too! But why is it that, there's a sober feeling all over your profile and poems? Your poem used to be vibrant and colorful. :( I don't know what's with you, but yes, it's a curse that we're supposed to pin down our own feelings, even though it hurts. Every poet needs a Writer's Block now and then!

[the_stoic]

ah! the feelings of emptiness that shrouds all those special moments in a day .. liked the way a glimmer of hope is spoken of amidst the pertinent sadness . well written