The dreams of evening.

Among the fields of faded dreams
When day is done, or so it seems,
I stand beside the padlocked gate
And watch the evening as I wait,
While breezes call from shadows deep
As willows hang their heads and weep,
The dreams of evening speak to me
About the things they want to be.

New born beginnings, new romance,
Scattered windblown flowers dance,
Promises on meadows lain
Feelings that they can’t explain,
Joy and sorrow, smiles and tears
Fervent hopes and sheltered fears,
Brought to me on scented wings
Those wind blown secret heartfelt things.

I seem to catch a gentle tune
As singing dreams wait for the moon,
And twilight strums the distant wires
To tempt those astral silver fires,
Until at last they paint the land
So that the dreams will understand,
That life is such an endless stream
And it will come to every dream…

Story ID:	3849
Written by:	Keith Robson (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Poem
Location:	Ashington Northumberland. England.
Year:	2008