When Evening Comes

The sky is restless from its
Lost shine glow from day’s path
Gone and sheep have ceased
Their Baaing the dogs
No longer yowling fed cat satisfied

Yet Eyore brays for someone
To talk to his pen aside from the
Others being male a lonely
Place with only a ram for company.

© Richard L. Provencher
Website: www.wsprog.com/rp/