Sounds of the Night

At sunset, you grow quiet.
The day has taken its toll,
filling you with more than your broken brain
can handle.

As so you come here, to the ridgeline,
You sit and watch the sky fade,
the sun sets,
the shadows grow.

Soon, colors will not matter.
It will be dark except for a spot of light
in the distant houses.

One of those houses is yours.
The lights are on.
The woman who loves you waits
while you rest in the familiar falling darkness,
It is warm there. Safe from the cold
that seeps into you as night falls.

But still, you linger.
There is no reason to flee the night.
Not any longer.
You know the sounds of the night,
the fearful lies they tell
and have survived them again and again.
You have lived here a decade and more.
and know each step home.
You know your way
to the light.

About this poem

The picture is of the quarry near my house at sunset. The poem could be of that as well, or about the depression, I battle each day. I know the way back.

Tom