Holding on to the day
Ravens, bring on the night
and a kindly day
becomes the quiet.

Closing his eyes
he holds onto his light
like a flicker of memory
encased in glass
never to be touched again
except by his mind's eye.

Savouring his past
gripped back tight
the darkness comes quicker.
Black wings lead beaks to the sunset,
and veins of winter,
cold recesses of dark
held back behind tightly closed lids
remember the days
that could never say goodnight.

LauraLee K. Harris