Going Home - ITQ
I told the setting sun to wait,
don’t sink yet with the day sedate,
the sky hadn’t splashed all hues ornate
for the curled cloud clumps to collate.
For the crimson sun floating slow,
flowers were yet to make scent flow.
As sun’s last rays staged sparkling show,
like the flaring beacon they’d glow.
Day’s shine sunset streams would divest,
birds from blue hadn’t returned to rest
after soaring flight to their nest,
before the dim dusk fell depressed.
I’d be home walking on path bright,
before the day turned into night.
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