Evening rises.

tired is on fingers and on nail
on grey that doesn’t reflect grey
saline drops frost inside and gosh
dead of free and structure laid,
leaf falls and monsoon scope
life narrowing and narrator yawn
not able to speak the words of snows
flaws of sorrow and timber burn,
he gaze toward dawn as mountain hide
passing of last grey of shiny done day
and I don’t mind’ cloud drawing black
cynic or narcist unfain faces
as rains fall like having wings on,
dawn shine like motherly figure
as her son laid there with drunk figure
wave not but promises of tomorrow
as shinning dawn sneak lower.