Six forty-five in the evening
At a time when the light grows faint
Daylight prepares for its leaving
But not without a fight or a feint
When silver is held at bay by gold
And grey can’t quite yet decide
That’s the time, when they say of old
That ghosts, wraiths, and spectres reside
In the hearts of both faint and bold.
Six fifty-two when I saw you
A hint just a whisper of breath
Our eyes they met and I knew you
From years before our last death
We recalled and then you forgot me
As the moment carried you by
A stranger gone on the ferry
With both of us wondering why
It was then I looked up at the sky
Xeno-oh-one in the night-time
I mean it was seven-oh-one
The silver and black of the night sky
Over the red and the gold had won.
About the Creator
Rohini Sunderam
Rohini Sunderam, a Canadian of Indian origin who calls both Halifax, NS and Bahrain, home, is a semi-retired advertising copywriter. Her stories and poems have appeared in several international anthologies and online magazines.
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