Lifting silky throats to the evening shade
One by one raising stories and songs
Obituaries, triumphs, cold bowls gifted on doorsteps.
When the meeting is done, shadows replace them
Leaving only mournful breaths and fearful rumbles.
Take to the night, empty bellies and worn feet
Caring hands replaced by the paints of war
This is your street now.
There was a time a softer kind visited
Singing to me through frosted pane
Rushing through open doors to welcoming hearths
She's gone now, replaced by the silent greys of night.
I fear for you my kings
These flowing nights are short and cold
But you are easily replaced by those behind
And there will be no taming you now.
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