The boy is tearing sunset with his eyes. <br />The fey leaves turn in sequences of dusk. <br />Such fragile color cannot last for long. <br />Someone should hold him till his vision fails. <br /> <br />You need not tell him that his measurement <br />Just missed tomorrow by a shadow's length. <br />Say winning of the dusk paints him so tall, <br />That he can hitch a ride down with the sun. <br /> <br />Dedicated to a street child whose name is known only to God. <br />Previously published, 'Riverrun'<br /><br />Sandra Fowler<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-winning-of-the-dusk/
