Saturday, June 6, 2009

Dusk at Beacon Hill Park 2001

Desperate shades of reflective light,
Bounced playfully,
Turning all which would reciprocate the game,

That soft orangey glow,
Played like a sequence of trembling colours on the waters of the pond,
The oak leaves saluted the flickering light,

Only the people and ducks knew dusk had arrived,

A time of reflection and the closure which would ensue,

The air now was delicious and cooler and one could breathe,
A better composition resulted from that fleeting realm of time,

The atmosphere soon had more changes,
Midnight blues would exchange greedy embraces with the hues of life,
Longer shadows emerged distorting the faded landscape,

And all that is Alive would prepare for eventide.

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