Sun slinks low to the horizon
giving leave for darker shades
of dusk to arrive.
Trees rustle their conversations
with all manner of inhabitants
muted, to suit the dying of light.
The steps take us up into
we may not wish to go in
the dead of night
but, the street lamp
offers a quiet glow of courage.
Light plays across cold-stone walls
of the old house
softening their intimidating depth.
If walls could talk
what would they say about those
hearts they’ve known?
For all its rooms the house
save a woman, who waits.
Maybe she has always been
isolated in that one room
looking at its four walls but peeking
at the world outside every now and then
just as we all tend to live in our separate boxes
leading our own separate lives.
© Daydreamertoo *all rights reserved
*I wanted this to be a bit on the dark side because the painting seems somewhat dark and lonely too.
Shared with Magpie Tales #119 Edward Hopper House at Dusk Painting.