When the last light kisses the soil,
You can hear their whispers in earnest call,
You can turn your head in search of the voice,
Only darkness shall greet your greedy soul.
They linger where our feet falter to step,
Oblivious to satiated words,
The ensnare us with a longing grace,
Captivate our larger self.
Caught in the circle of fate,
Poison ivy creeping on the wall,
The swollen bricks deign desolation,
The forlorn sparrow perches on its tall.
Like a call in the dark,
Their presence a mere shadow,
Sentinel to the night breeze
That beckons a seditious trail.
We are trapped in our selves,
In a soporific haze,
As silence slowly makes its way home.
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