A Dreamer

The sun ever so lightly

on the edge of twilight’s sky,

just like the promise in my ear,

the beating of the lie.

If you toil, work sufficiently,

at last therein your dreams,

but nearly not so lovely

as the land upon the seams.

Brick buildings of the deepest red

like autumn's dark ravines

will fortress you in parallel

with glassy-blue moonbeams.

The colors ache

my blackened heart

and ravage all the scene,

and there in night time’s distant sigh,

a star cries for me.

The silver nightshades blossom

in the streetlamp's bright abyss,

and I plunge further into

my sole dream’s loneliness.