A cool breeze blows past my somber face,
tired with life's demanding race.
As the lights begin to dim,
and the owl begins to sing.
I sit on the precipice of thought
and think of what the day has brought.
Sorrow, struggle, joy,peace
all these in writing I release.
This final hour of day,
that many seem to cast away.
Is a time for thought and rest,
as the sun sinks in the west.
All my worries are gone,
as I await the new dawn.
