Pastmaster

As the sun climbs down
beyond the quiet town
and a mild breeze
whispers with ease
and as the night grows older
the wind blows colder
and a dark gloom prevails
as the mind derails,
And time moves faster
hailing the pastmaster
while thoughts stay still,
motionless till
melancholy grows
and a figurine shows
a hazy form
with the same old charm,
dissolves in the air;
And with despair
as you stare into space
the heart picks pace
and silence surrounds
as death does rounds;
And sands still steady
the body is ready
to flow with the waves
as the mind still craves
for a moment more;
they wash ashore.