Every sunset
is a day
stealing hours.
A fleeting canvas
pink and orange
resting on the horizon.
Waiting
to purge
the mishaps
of morning
behind your
closed eyelids.
Go to sleep,
little baby.
Every sunset
is the wisps
of Calla Lilly pollen
dancing on
evening breeze
while crickets strum
their violins
in the freshly cut
grass
of rural Minnesota.
Heaven rays
pull our breath
from sighing lips,
shimmering through
nightly dew and
rising moonlight.
Go to sleep,
little baby.
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 3:41 AM UTC
Every sunset
is a day
stealing hours.
A fleeting canvas
pink and orange
resting on the horizon.
Waiting
to purge
the mishaps
of morning
behind your
closed eyelids.
Go to sleep,
little baby.
Every sunset
is the wisps
of Calla Lilly pollen
dancing on
evening breeze
while crickets strum
their violins
in the freshly cut
grass
of rural Minnesota.
Heaven rays
pull our breath
from sighing lips,
shimmering through
nightly dew and
rising moonlight.
Go to sleep,
little baby.
