comes the sunset

comes the sunset, sweet and high
fingers stretching cross the sky
last birds sing a lullaby
town is set for sleeping --

comes the evening, welcoming
slowing down and softening
holding close and treasuring
love that's here

for keeping

Published by

Beleaguered Servant

Owen Servant is an online poet working in a style that's been described as "compulsive". In real life, he is an actuary, because being a poet wasn't unpopular enough.

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