Peace On The Days Dying Poem by Kevin Patrick

It's after 7: 00... and still the days dying
dusk settles in purple dust tracks
The fireplace smelters the remains of the sun
as the dog sleeps by its warm tide
warm bodies rests in an old rattling chair
under a quilt silhouette flame
wistful windows hush down the breeze
taken pictures of grazed stillness
for the fury of cities and maddening crowds
are bygones swept under the rug.
But Don't knock if you're peddling gimmicks
Your rackets not coming indoors
Leave the welcome mats for friends on the run
A beggar to dine good company for
Just sit back and rest your worried feet
there's no need to be racing dice
Should your worries grow into a mountain
Get the dynamite and make it a grave
and when your world is moving too fast
sit down a move with the earth
You get a better ride
When you're not pushing dirt
its past 7: 00 and the night is flirting
and the day is past its youth