WASTED SUNSETS

Wasted sunsets

The day is gone
when the angels come to stay
And all the silent whispers
will be blown away.
And lying in the corner
a pair of high heel shoes.
Hanging on the wall
gold and silver for the blues.

One too many wasted sunsets.
One too many for the road
And after dark
the door is always open
hoping someone else will show.

Someone is waiting behind
an unlocked door.
Grey circles overhead, empties
on the floor.
The cracks in the walls have
grown too long .
The slow hand is dragging on
afraid to meet the dawn.