Eventide

Eventide

The day was quietly leaving – and the night was at the door.
It was raining, softly, softly, as the light was ebbing slow.
From the water in the gutters, the lights, reflected, shone,
As all across the city, those lights were turning on...

I was treading, slowly, softly, on my aging, sneakered feet,
And I'd hoisted my umbrella as I walked the city street –
For the rain was softly falling while the light was ebbing slow,
As the day was quietly leaving and the night was at the door...

I heard a neighbor talking as I passed her darkened house.
I could hear her quietly talking as I walked beside her house.
I could hear what she was saying, for my tread was soft and slow,
As the trees grew dark and looming as the night came in the door...

So the tide, it ebbs and rises – and the moon, it waxes, wanes.
And the city slows at evening as it's touched by gentle rains...
The night, it enters softly as the day has quietly left.
As the tide of light is turning, we remember those who've left...

The day, it had departed as I entered in my house.
And I waited, in the gloaming, for the coming of my spouse...
I would wait till it was midnight, then I'd call her on the 'phone,
As she left her ailing parent and she traveled home alone...

I wished that I could do as she had done so many years,
Remembering the ones I left behind while shedding tears...
But I waited there in silence and my cheeks and eyes were dry.
It was only for the living that I've ever had to cry...

2013 July 2nd, Tue.
(last two stanzas added July 3rd Wed.)
Brooklyn