Day is done, has finished its performance.
Stilly slides, hides its face from this world.
Has given us a time to be, weave our cloths,
reward and condemn, praise and contest.
It carries some words we succeed in telling
and the untold ones, which only we know.
At last, give us night, to cradle our dreams,
looking for lovers hidden in the laps of time.
By Edilson Afonso Ferreira.
Published in Boston Poetry Magazine, August 15 2014.
edilsonmeloferreira 