Beginning of the Night

Things were at least a little different then
A neat line of houses stood the test of time
They were almost militant like

Colorful products existed in a steady flow
Gorbachev sent a strange missive
And nostalgia was confused for admiration of the present

But one could count on nature to deliver
The beginning of the night
It was reliable, dispersing any golden era for awhile
The earth stopped moving until it decided to spin in the direction of ambition
And comfort for the next few years was a hastily uttered promise
Or a golden egg that sunk below the lip of the horizon
Darkness was okay. It was needed to rest.

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