Magical Evenings

It’s that time of the day

5, 6 or 8 pm depending on whether it’s January or July;

It’s that time of the day

When the sun decides to take leave of the sky.

A time for reflection, to smile about the day’s jokes

A time to think about the ones we love

A thousand ideas race through our heads,

Swifter than the colours above;

Temperatures dip, half of the color spectrum opens up,

The sun, in a final goodbye, becomes a glowing red ball

Just before it dips below,

We stop and stare to behold it all.

The sun is gone, yet the transition continues,

In the sky, in our lives, in our minds.

Even if a man does nothing, in the evening,

His brain is whirring, you will find.

And then there are those, for whom evenings mean sorrow,

A longing perhaps for the days gone by

Some whose twilights remind them of their lives’ confusion,

An unanswered tangle of what, how and why.

Whatever the mood, tis true

That a change above gives food for thought,

Perhaps, on a grander scale, making us aware

Of the changes our lives have wrought.

I pity most the ones who walk into walls in the day

And walk out in the night;

For them it is nothing but a passage of time

And a sudden absence of light.