The price of a sunset


The sun is resting, a velvet scene across a cityscape,
Clouds edged apricot, the centers a broad blush,
The same as roses softened by April's bloom.
This is the only view I’ve ever known,
Yet these colors are nothing more than distortions;
Light bleeding against cigarette smoke,
The air choking on tailpipes and chimney stocks.
Our rendering of dawn is cancer laced charm,
My sunsets the scent of motor oil,
My sunrise the screech of fleeting trains.
Does knowing the trick take away from the magic,
Diminishing our outlook, stealing away the wonder?
Not when that lie is a coral drenched sky;
A pretty mask worth more than the truth.

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