Night by The Logican

Night
.
.
As the sun
Crosses the Western horizon
She limps with a staff and sack
Like an old woman
Trudging mount Everest’s hill
She’s a witch from genesis
No force can manacle her
Darkness is a colour;
No not ‘black’
Darkness is a colour
From the heart’s palette
A mixture of evil and gloom
When men’s body
Romances their bed, their socket shuttled
She came to steal from them
She’s that cunning old woman
That binds brawny men
And between her thighs
The stars of many fell
She smiles with eeriness
And governs the earth, in her hours…

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