A Masterpiece
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Twilight embraces Dusk
like a child hugs a pet.
And in that brief moment;
Day's defeated, Night won.
A wisp of a Moon hangs
low on the horizon.
And slowly rises like
a ghostly memory.
Colors blend with shadows,
inking the crevices.
And carpets of dew get
woven on grassy looms.
The Sun's rays stab the Night,
till ebony bleeds red.
And soon darkness descends,
to extinguish the light.
The stars perforate the
fabric of time and space.
And a black canvas morphs
into a masterpiece.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015
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