Tuesday, May 8, 2012

On the Threshhold of Twilight

Here is the hour of musk-tender power
Drawing the shadow of dusk on the day
Here is the hour that unfolds like a flower
In petals of amber and soft silver-gray

Here is the taunting in warm-whispered wanting
For one precious hour of fair pasts to return
Here is the portal where time-tempered mortal
Recalls dim-lit gardens for which softly we yearn

Here is the meadow where memories echo
Bitter-sweet sonnet of sorrow and mirth
As twilight comes stealing, life’s hurt and its healing
Swells in the stillness that blankets the earth

Here is the hour as darkness creeps lower
When exile is sweeter than noon’s laughing clan
For darkness makes clearer and somehow draws nearer
The whisper of memories common to man

© Janet Martin


  1. Hey Janet, I finally found you. Wanted to let you know how much I adore this poem. Every word is perfect.

  2. Sara, I'm so glad you are able to visit! there are others who have trouble getting to my blog and I'm just not sure why. Maybe for some computers the photos make it difficult to load...but THANK-YOU for remembering this poem It's a poem that just felt 'right' as I wrote it...know what I mean?
    I really appreciate your words:) Thank-you again~


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