Twilight

The rampaging agile breezes brew the fading twilight lively—it can be heard from the rustle caused by the shaking leaves-hair of the lonely lanky willow swaying merrily its cluster of leaves laden head-twigs like a lady’s hair dangling in style, gyrating to the jolting movements so ghostly fluffy. Lo, it may be in a madly dance to the crooning of an unheard dirge; forlorn amid the fatter and lush green ones. Tingeing the crimson rose-heads of the single plant by me darker or stern, it evokes the landscape of the yonder air-realm and lets me have a fleeting look around so swift like the agile breezes. The clutch of my hands on the iron handrail along the veranda chills to frozen stuck, unmoveable letting me mortify this urge to go free but to look closer or listen nearer the wild panting of the aged asthmatic next to me on an old iron chair. His dark greasy complexion dotted with the darker moles like a charred sheet of paper; his head plunging forth like a limp yellow-bleached banana frond, gasping wilder to the flaring obsessive desperation he holds within—should better go but no…! His pathetic disclosure whips this hardening entity feared soft, to make the final confession before the furling twilight rolled up dark: As he endures so with this hope to live on further, what thou endure in thy living uninterrupted?