John Dugdale
Empire Chair in the Gloaming, Stone Ridge, NY, 1994

The Gloaming

I’ve been in the gloaming since I was a child
Tinted sunshine’s without smiles
Muddied feet
And a heavy heart

Sometimes I could soar
With effervescent stars
Visions and dreams
All so colorful 

The pills, they took care of that
Now I can’t take wing
The flatness is my “cure"
The weeping my torture

Sandstorms come so frequently
They hinder my view
And twist my spirit as they swirl
It’s a lonely world that very few may cross the threshold

I stand far from a distant shore
Running as fast as I can
To feel safe and sound
It’s a trap; I run on a treadmill 

Sailing on sinking ship
Sails tattered like my passion
Rage is a constant danger
I’m going down without a chance 

Juliet Wilkerson



Juliet Wilkerson
  ©Aug. 28, 2005