Evenings with Glen.

No, I never mind silences. They say lot in themselves. And as the dusk scatters across the sky the quiet calm still fails to grant stillness. Only restless souls left, like leaves being blown about by the wind. Apologies and acceptance here go hand in hand. No fear. Cross roads come and you go home and to the library. I walk the other way.

By then the evening fades away and night comes like a cloak. Giving blindness to once-happy eyes. Too attuned to light, they stumble in the dark.

Expectations suck.