The light is dying out of the sky
Sun said goodnight an hour ago
The garden’s in shadow, one lone bird goes by
The tree’s a dim outline: no breeze to blow
Focus like, darkness comes down upon us
In shadowy rooms, in comfortable halls
Just you, me and cats, soft silence, no fuss
Just a faint radio as evening falls.
Two quite mature people who are in love
An autumnal Saturday of hundreds we’ve known
You’re downstairs, I’m up, but still certain of
The blessings that grow as the dear years have flown
Allie and Peter, Allie and Pete
Even the mere repetition is sweet.