Fading Light

The setting sun marks in sharp relief

Pink-hued clouds low on the horizon.

They move in slow-motion,

Animated brush-strokes

Across a rapidly darkening canvas.

The soaring, plaintive vocals  

Of London Grammar

"We're Wasting Our Young Years"

Resonates through the apartment -

It feels a bit like that tonight.

10 storeys up, panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows

Reveal a procession of twin headlights making their tired way

Along the long road back to Brussels.

IMEC, the lone skyscraper 

Towers over the freeway, a handful of lights ablaze

Where researchers work late.

Giant cranes, construction done for the day

Stand like sentinels, their red eyes 

Twinkle in staggered succession,

As they acknowledge their mechanical brethren

Plying a modern day migration route,

Stratospheric contrails in their wake,

To Heathrow and further west.

A gentle breeze blows in,

A candle flame flickers.

Summer laughter drifts in from a garden below,

A spread, family, friends.

There's that atmospheric bass and reverb again,

"We're Wasting Our Young Years",

And it feels a bit like that tonight.