WHEN SUNSET BLEEDS
Behold lucent splendor of an arcade
that bleeds her copper shawl, its final glow
awaiting dusk to grasp last flares of blade,
when decimal of time changes the flow
and in repose, glazed orb succumbs to row.
The hour arrives when earth and stars unfold
as prelude between day and eve awakes;
till hand of sunset bids goodbye, consoled
with minted hope upon rise of dawn break,
bestowing tranquil pause, to mend toil’s ache.
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Sunset Contest of Francine Roberts
17 Jul 2012