Weary

Weary

In the hush of twilight, the day sighs low, Shoulders bowed beneath a muted glow, Each step a whisper on the cobblestones, A quiet echo of tired bones.

The wind, a soft lament, drifts through the lane, Carrying the weight of modest pain, Yet in the fading light there lies a grace— A gentle promise that night will replace.

So let the world turn slow, let thoughts unwind, Find solace in the peace that shadows bind, For even weariness can softly heal, When cradled by the calm that night does feel.