Poems, Continued

Bah, here's another poem:

Twilight Machinery

She was a dynamo,
A cog in the twilight machinery.
Deafening silence follows.
Dawn comes, with Hope, and Light.
But it is so damn far away.
Reach out for it, smell it, taste it, feel it.
All senses are dead and blazing brilliantly.
A quiet heartbreak, not felt.
Gentle, like a mother-caress.