I'll wait.
Until the fade of clichéd daybreak
Entitles me to speak.
The hackneyed burst of fuchsia
Melting lilac, as the
Silhouettes of birds and
Rooftops, tired of being mentioned,
Shrug square shoulders at the sky.
I'll wait,
But will have said my piece
Before the violet dusk lies
Like cashmere on the landscape,
That too-familiar metaphor
For waning.
I'll wait,
But while I'm waiting
These words work.
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