6PM is a strange time.
The lights dim and the streets fill,
an aura flows to pass
over all those
who witness this visceral change.
The stranger at day
finds home faraway,
sipping a cup
of what she calls inspiration.
The lover at night awakes
to find his message
spread to her elation.

6PM draws a fine line.
The shadow of night
reaches completion.
The hands drift like
slow glaciers and
pass the central threshold
that splits the clock,
near left and far right;
or is it the other way?

Alas,
noon is no match
for it has not the complexity,
anxiety or brevity to disturb
the juices of the mind.
men are devoid
of burden
and toil
and an offbeat
yet steady rhythm
pulses the blood and
ignites the fire.

Ah, 6PM.
for all that you are
and that which I am,
A sigh, a breath,
the sweetness of time.