Sunset (poem)

Sunset

The day is done, and the sun
parts his arms for the final
goodbye near the sea, the breeze
upon my back as I watch the sails
press against the dying light,
quiet in their wake.

Watching purple and pink
sink beneath the waves, I ask
myself if I could leave like the sun
away from this earth that turns
change and time, separated by rhymes
in verse like sails on oceans

and you drifting,
drifting away.

(for the previous poem, check it out here: Sunrise (poem))

— The Finicky Cynic

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