The horizon unfurls a silvery veil,
a delicate, mocking promise of tomorrow.
In the quiet tremor of twilight,
ghosts linger, whispering shadows, sinew
threading through the fringe fabric of society.
The weight of absence hangs heavy,
a shroud over the fragile bones of memory.
Soon the stars, cold and indifferent,
will glint like sidewalk shards of broken glass,
scattered remnants piercing the heavens.
The city murmurs a hollow dirge,
a requiem for the lost, the faint silhouettes
against the dying light of day.
dVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night #364
Optional Prompt: Sidewalk
The Truth About Tigers 