Sun Grew Red

The sun grew red, and sank behind the hills,
And restless grew the wond’ring in my mind;
The doubt that grows to poison, and then kills,
Had burned my eyes, and made my judgment blind.

For how could I believe the words you’d said?
So many times I’d heard such things before:
The words were always empty – hollow – dead –
And love a made-up game of keeping score.

It’s fine: I knew I did my part as well,
Another day gone down, another love:
The reddish light, the latest tinge of hell,
I didn’t know what I’d been thinking of…

    But then, you touched me softly, and I knew:
    The sun might go, but I would not lose you

Author: Sibelius Russell

Sibelius Russell (a/k/a/ Owen "Beleaguered" Servant) lives a life of whimsical servitude -- whatever that means.

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