The Day walks into the sunset

With arms folded behind his back

the day walks into the sunset

his shadow growing with each step

reaching behind to drag

each untethered thought

over the hills

in pursuit of  the dying rays.

the day hesitates at the foot of the hill

thinks of turning back

to complete the loving 

that still heaves in the street

or to move the piece on the chess board

outside the balcony

where he played with the falcons

and the falconers seeking advantage

but the sun is dying

behind the hills

and the weight of the shadows

and her bag of loves and hates and in betweens

drags on his feet.

the day crawls up the hill

over the horizon

just in time to sadly drop

into the inkiness that has come

and swallowed the dying sun.