The Sunset

The Sun goes down,
All wreathed in gold,
The Moon appears, distant and cold.
But in the moment
When the Sun tries to fight,
What better sight to see tonight?
Bloodred clouds sail on by,
Like feathery ships in a treacherous sky.
The battle rages:
How the Sun does flare!
But the Moon, cold and silent,
Strangles with an icy stare.
The Sun's last rays,
Soon will die,
And like my love, cold they will lie.
Until the morning,
With new might,
Will help love finally
Find the light.

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