Richard Schnap- A Poem

NIGHTFALL

I remember the days
Of white-winged butterflies
When life was a book
With a happy ending

And the shadows of the world
Would coil around others
As they hid in dark rooms
Nursing their wounds

But that was before
The bright yellow candles
Were suddenly smothered
By a cold heartless wind

And the butterflies became
Web-spinning spiders
While the book of sweet dreams
Disintegrated into dust