Drained, dropping, the screen is fading,
music ending, bar is closing.
Final curtain call is coming.
Light is waning. Light is waning.
Water falling without purpose
sometimes frozen, sometimes sodden,
freezing one day, hot the other.
Drums keep playing. Light is waning.
Words continue through the darkness
movie kisses, backstage lovers
silence in the writer’s workshop
save a tapping through the shadow.
Light is fading over ocean
as one lover leaves the gangplank.
Ship is casting off at nightfall.
Love is constant. (Is it waning?)
Love is constant, through the waning,
though its form is always changing,
shining though the curtain closes
even when it never opens.
Drain a life to dregs of sadness
it will echo to a rhythm.
Feet are tapping, lips are thrumming
even when the light is waning.
Daniel Chapman 