The Dusk is Like a Bridal Maid
By Rachel Heffington
The dusk is like a bridal maid:
The rose is mantled on her cheek,
A single shimmering diamond-star
Clings to her hair so dark and sleek.
Her skirt of azure gently rests
Within her modest golden hand;
Her veil of quiet darkness flows
After her hem has swept the land.