The shroud of night is laid low
A death mask image of the day beneath
Eulogies prayed over the dearly departed
Funeral dirges mournful and despairingWailers earn their wages
Keening sorrowfully for a time well-lived
Never to be emulated
Never to be bestedThe gloaming spreads, darkening, deepening
Voices now raised in praise
A vigil of celebration for the the dying light
Mummers merging with the shadowsBodies swaying to the music of twilight
A parade of fools
Masquerading as spirits
Trumpeting the rising sun.
Linked to The Tenth Daughter of Memory
Thin spiral notebook 
Shivers, I like the feel of day’s graveside.
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I’ve got Scarlet O’Hara screaming in my head now. Heh.
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so much happening after the sun departs….
but it will shine again tomorrow, don’t mind the clouds.
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every cloud has a silver lining?
lot of poetry going on here this time around!
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ah…i am loving more poetry at 10 DoM…esp good poetry…smiles…fine word play…really well played…
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Wailers earn their wages
Stunning.
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Great play of the words…the Muse found within the sunset 🙂
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Hooray! Glad you’re back, Tara.
I like this a lot. And what better ending than that magnificent sunset?
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Great post! I love poetry very much
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Gorgeous.
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