Turning Gold

The sun is setting

Later now

Pale streaks

Across the sky

Clouds

Turning pink

Turning gold

Turning lilac

Then a gentle echo of

Midnight blue

There’s a cliff

Small clearing with a view

A rocky fringe

Falling off into the sea

A stolen chair

Not very comfortable

But still frequented

And a painted table

Once white

Now rough

Faded and peeling

Wood grain glaring to the sky

No one knows they’re here

Except me

My little corner

Some 

Bittersweet evenings

I walk out the back door

Down the little path

Tucked amongst foliage

Barely seen

And there it is

Not as far as it feels

And I take my

Affogato al caffe

Spiked, a little glass in hand

Watch the salt water tumble

And sit until the sun is gone

Or the wind picks up

Or the stars say

Go back home

Where the lights are warm

Soft and charming gold

Where maybe I live alone

Or maybe someone is 

Wondering where I’ve

Gotten off to

And I come back inside

But leave the back door open

Simply

To shine some light

Into the shadows