Cold Light of Day
In the cold light of day
when candles burn no more,
their wicks like blackened tails
in gelling pools of wax;
the night has slipped away
and spirits cease to soar,
to stars on solar gales
as lightning whips and cracks.
In the cold light of day
when love lies on the sheets
in cooling shades of pink
and blonde hair turns to white;
the words are hard to say,
and in the throat retreats
for thoughts are hard to think
they form then take to flight.
In the cold light of day
when beams impale the eyes
the retinas turn blue
with all illusions flown;
and clarity holds sway,
no matter how one tries
there's nothing more to do
but reap the harvest sown.
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