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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=422647" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Day's End</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">night divides as clearly<br>as the brightness of day</div><div style="margin:10px 0">time cuts and doubly sharp <br>in the shadow of night</div><div style="margin:10px 0">on the last train of tokyo subway<br>you see a woman, middled age<br>a goddess all on her own<br>face heavily painted <br>her fingers heavy with rings, <br>one of a big torquoise, <br>another white crystal, <br>and another plain gold </div><div style="margin:10px 0">her powder betrays her<br>the lines cut through<br>leaving a chill <br>between the mouths<br>that in the silence<br>scream to the world of <br>the thirst underneath <br>to be young and supple again<br>and desirable as a young virgin </div><div style="margin:10px 0">she looks suspiciously <br>and listlessly towards you <br>as you give her that telling <br>glance of what she is</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the light in the red light part of town<br>she works is even dimmer<br>than the younger ones' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">a lane as cold as it can be<br>if you are not drunk, <br>down and out and sordid </div><div style="margin:10px 0">under bright chandeliers<br>in a flashy part of town<br>newly created manipulative angels <br>flutter around in body hugging dresses<br>obvious of the advantage they have<br>leaving a trail of paris designer's fragrance</div><div style="margin:10px 0">female crickets</div><div style="margin:10px 0">they walk faster, in full confidence too<br>and could tango in the highest of heels</div><div style="margin:10px 0">their skin gleam like milk under <br>neons, and their voices a cat on heat</div><div style="margin:10px 0">here and there, men in their prime<br>eyes excited as owl zerooing on a mice<br>try to play one up game<br>with their designer watches, <br>expenisve pipes, shoes and wear</div><div style="margin:10px 0">out of the train, the middle age woman <br>walks to her one room apartment<br>echoes of her shoes hitting nightly and coldly<br>at the facts of life she finds hard to swallow</div><div style="margin:10px 0">she tries to tell her lonely heart <br>for the umpteenth time, she is <br>a lot better than others her age<br>- at least she can still hide her lines<br>the only white lie she tries to do on herself<br>and catch some men double her age</div><div style="margin:10px 0">her sleep is an ocean<br>she tosses and tosses<br>like waves floating between torture of night<br>and the longed for warmth of day</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Tiong+Chunghoo">John Tiong Chunghoo</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=422647" data-title="Day's End de John Tiong Chunghoo" data-description="night divides as clearly
as the brightness of day

time cuts and doubly sharp 
in the shadow of night

on the last train of tokyo subway
you see a woman, middled age
a goddess all on her own
face heavily painted 
her fingers heavy with rings, 
one..."></div>
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