The Sunset

The sun reluctantly,
Descends upon distant plains,
And burns crimson traces of longing,
Across the forlorn and fading sky scape,
While darkness gathers pace,
To conquer the remnants of the day,
Scattered cumulus clouds,
Make haste and melt into the fast approaching darkness,
Soon, dark silhouettes of wonder,
Dot the landscape,
In amorphous shapes,
That make it hard,
To distinguish between,
A solitary shrub,
And the sedentary buffalo,
It is time to go home now,
And rest these tired bones,
These bushes have no friends nor allies,
When the sunset beckons,
When the night falls…

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2 thoughts on “The Sunset

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