It’s late afternoon and the echo
Of a passerby is subdued; not
Like morning steps, hurried
Hitting pavements hard.
There’s sweetness about this
Hour like an old man who
Looks back on his life and
Smiles, glad that he was given
A chance to live, knowing his
Time is running out.
It’s dark out side, street lamps
Make shadows deeper, I light
The table lamp and feel comfort
In familiar things, worn chairs
And dust on bookshelves.
Here, a room my own, I’m at
Peace with the world.