Evening is many things… the end of a day, of a night, the start… a poet with a pen and a heavy clueless heart… cereal and milk in a shopping cart… a philosopher, her world torn apart… a wanderer far off on the green field… a heart-break that still hasn’t healed… in the shadows of this eve my dearest dreams sleep… and they dream of forgotten memories… in your sepia sanctuary, I yearn to fade out and disappear… from the onslaught of all these gazes… people and time and peopled places… I wish to disappear… I wish to heal… someday… in the mountains…