Already I am no longer looked at with lechery or love. <br />My daughters and sons have put me away with marbles and dolls, <br />Are gone from the house. <br />My husband and lovers are pleasant or somewhat polite <br />And night is night. <br /> <br />It is a real chill out, <br />The genuine thing. <br />I am not deceived, I do not think it is still summer <br />Because sun stays and birds continue to sing. <br /> <br />It is summer-gone that I see, it is summer-gone. <br />The sweet flowers indrying and dying down, <br />The grasses forgetting their blaze and consenting to brown. <br /> <br />It is a real chill out. The fall crisp comes <br />I am aware there is winter to heed. <br />There is no warm house <br />That is fitted with my need. <br /> <br />I am cold in this cold house this house <br />Whose washed echoes are tremulous down lost halls. <br />I am a woman, and dusty, standing among new affairs. <br />I am a woman who hurries through her prayers. <br /> <br />Tin intimations of a quiet core to be my <br />Desert and my dear relief <br />Come: there shall be such islanding from grief, <br />And small communion with the master shore. <br />Twang they. And I incline this ear to tin, <br />Consult a dual dilemma. Whether to dry <br />In humming pallor or to leap and die. <br /> <br />Somebody muffed it?? Somebody wanted to joke.<br /><br />Gwendolyn Brooks<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-sunset-of-the-city/
