Thoughts Which Wear A Mask

The day had dawned in greying clouds
which dimmed the light that tries to lift
a sombre mood from gloomy shrouds
so shamelessly surrounding it.
The calls of birds were tolling doom
in echoed cries that agonised
to break the spell and end the gloom
of wishes mired in darkling skies.

Subdued by thoughts which wear a mask
enclosed within a pensive face,
exposed to wants that seldom ask
an easy path to mend the pace –
suborned by guile to stay awake
and wait awhile for dawn to break.
© 2 February 2008, I. D. Carswell