You walk backwards from the setting sun,
barefoot in the fading gold,
watching light dissolve to dusk,
no secrets left untold.

The evening wind plays with your hair,
soft as whispers never said.
I watch you moving through the light,
with every step I too tread.

The golden glow clings to your skin,
paints you in its embered hue,
a fleeting masterpiece of fire,
Your beauty bathed in red-shifting blue.

I love you in this quiet hour,
when day and night stand hand in hand.
As you walk backwards from the light,
And I watch you from where I stand.