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Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen

Monday, May 28, 2012

In the Sunset

Edward Hopper House at Dusk 1935
In the sunset
where the day hides its most vulnerable moments
I think of you
In the most tender hour
between light and dark
I still feel the ache
of a lost friendship.

submitted for The Mag 119

14 comments:

Laurie Kolp said...

Oh, this is so sad.

Jo-Anne Meadows said...

Love the photo and love the poem.....

Brian Miller said...

in the in between...def the veil is thin there and the loss palpable...

Fireblossom said...

Oh gosh. I wasn't expecting that. Love is a staple of poetic expression, but friendship is written about far less often even though it can run just as deep.

zongrik said...

the ache makes it sooo achy

nene said...

I echo Fireblossom's sentiment.
Friendship is so much needed much like love, but sometimes more complex and all too often diminished and disavowed

Great piece Lolamouse

darev2005 said...

It always blows my mind how you can put so much in so few words.

Kat Mortensen said...

Very sad. That "tender hour" gets you every time, doesn't it?

Jinksy said...

But friendships can surely be re-forged? Who can declare them ended?

Tess Kincaid said...

Dusk is the most tender hour...

Tumblewords: said...

I've always felt it so - the tender hour - between light and dark. Wonderful piece!

Helen said...

... when the deep purple falls over sleepy garden walls. This is lovely.

Helena said...

Hey! Hey! The idea of day hiding it's most vulnerable moments is quite splendid! A fabulous piece!

Bee's Blog said...

Oh how many of us can relate to this.