Late

A blaze of fearful glory settling in the skies
The outward spectrum bright to my introverted eyes

The city's secret dwellings fortified in stone
Cast aside and standing alone
The blood has bled, washing through their souls
The dark crept so steadily
There's not long left
It's late; we're going home

And the shadows are rolling in as up reaching trees tickling the skies
Silently and secretly drawing you in
Velvet night approaching with a long and earthy sigh
The world begins so sleep
All in a search for peace

A canvas that's a haze of watercolour practice
Someone's up there painting the skies
With such skill they brush above our lives
In memory of all those that came before
Every storm a masterpiece that only comes to light
When it nestles in the shadows at the end of a day

But now it's late
And it's time to go home