The Silent Form of Grace
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| The day's gentle surrender to night, painted across a peaceful sky. |
The Fading Day
The sun dips low, a painter's fading gold,
Across the canvas of the western sky.
Day's vibrant chorus, now a story told,
As silent stars begin their watch on high.
A hush descends, the world begins to sigh,
The busy hum of noon melts soft away.
Shadows stretch, where hidden secrets lie,
Embracing hues that linger from the day.
A Promise of Peace
The air grows cool, a whisper on the skin,
As purple streaks blend into deepening blue.
A time for solace, where the dreams begin,
And weary spirits find their peace anew.
Oh, twilight's grace, a bridge 'twixt dark and light,
A gentle promise of the coming night.
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