Five O’Clock Sun (a poem)

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Five O’Clock Sun

I am startled
  By voices raised,
Angels, reaching
  Spires of my regret,
Cries like doves,
  Flutter in shadows met,
Sunlight shyly peeks,
  Through dusty
Window streaks
  Of my memories,
Not as clear now
  As they were. 
Words we said,
  Drifting away,
Your image, too
  Blurred to hate,
I resist an itch
  To miss you in
Empty places,
  Where loneliness
Is a virtue and
  A gentler fate,
I am but one,
  Beholden to none,
Tired angels will
  Continue to sing,
Doves will still come,
  And regret is only
A reflection in the
  Five o'clock sun.|

–Joan Wiley❤