Evening Time

Evening time Evening time. Softness. Laughter of child sound. Creak of backyard swing through the open windows. Bird song heard Through the softening caressing light Slanted through dust motes Gathering shadows. Pandora keeping company; House of the rising sun to Diva Amazing Grace to Roberta “Like a river flowing” A collage of listening from a life time. Table had been set for two, Now goblets of red diminished, Bits of couscous framing, Puddles of meat juice congealing on the china. Withdrawing from sound, He retreats into the wine, Collapsing into some space within his soul. Some room that is always there, But now door ajar. Waves lap over his mind being. What would the last look like? Taste like, feel and sound like? What was it like in that upper room? Do we ever know, until, We don’t know and then the light slips away. What would you do differently? Balanced between not Being able to live in the past And knowing there will not be a tomorrow, Rather only now that brief glimpse of the present.