The End of the Day
In this tinsel world of botox faces,
perfect orthodontal smiles
and all those desperate attempts
to keep youthful looks
I’m thinking about
the headlong stampede of youth
and the crumbling that comes with age
and I’m also thinking that for beauty
sunset’s red, orange and purple blaze
equals sunrise’s swathe of pastel glow
and how, after the end of day,
is the velvet quilt of night
and the diamond litter of stars.
The Australian poet, Neil Creighton, is ever the optimist. He blogs at windofflowers.blogspot.com.au.