Staring out into the crimson sky
the westbound sun melts into the horizon.
A red and gold puddle of translucency,
blends into an ocean
of majestic purples and blues.
Pinpoints of light begin to appear
as day succumbs to night.
I stand in silence,
near to tears.
Wondering where you've gone.
The radiance of the emerging moon
shines a beacon into the vastness.
To no avail.
I know that you are gone.
And unlike my faith in dawning sun,
I hold no hope of your return-
Upon the morning.
Jan 5, 2025
Jan 5, 2025 at 11:34 AM UTC
Staring out into the crimson sky
the westbound sun melts into the horizon.
A red and gold puddle of translucency,
blends into an ocean
of majestic purples and blues.
Pinpoints of light begin to appear
as day succumbs to night.
I stand in silence,
near to tears.
Wondering where you've gone.
The radiance of the emerging moon
shines a beacon into the vastness.
To no avail.
I know that you are gone.
And unlike my faith in dawning sun,
I hold no hope of your return-
Upon the morning.
I feel I should make a collection of poems
called Born at 3 am.
It seems like that is when they arrive,
when the world is calm and sleep eludes me.
So this has been posted to my you tube channel I hope you'll check it out
www.youtube.com/@tsummerspoetry
Thanks.
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