I'll be chasing down the sunset
although I'll never find
her. Melded pink is wonderful;
her gold cannot be mined.

Every time I reach for her
and think I have arrived,
my evening lady's disappeared
into her golden hive.

Every night I chase her on
horizons by the sea,
but now I know that being gone's
her only way to be.

Her purpose is to fade away,
the same is said of me;
but beauty's in the setting sun,
a beauty meant to see.