Dusk Mood

The summer dusk is closing down
Making of a little town
A place where golden dreams creep 'round
Peacefully.

An old man goes with hobbl'ng gait
To keep a tryst with a garden gate
That leans on a rusty hinge to wait
Patiently.

Here in the gloom by the lilac tree
The gate and the man are fancy free
And commune in wordless sympathy
of used-to-be.

A robin sings its evening song
As it has for long and long
Voicing deep-felt poignant wrong
For the three.