Sunset, Are Her Lips
If twilight be a fair Maid's breast,
then sunset, are her lips.
Where upon the stars she'll kiss
and her tears the moon does sip.
Her trailing gown of languid grace,
reveals dreams, to whence we flee.
Fans with multi colored plumes,
hide eyes, she winks at thee.
To melt amid the setting sun,
is to covet, the Maiden's form.
Stretch out minds, to find naught,
but the coming of new morn.
Thus, all the world, loves the light,
when hence, the day sets low.
For her dance can be felt,
within sun's final glow.
4/28/2011
For the contest: Sunrise v.s. Sunset
Placement: 4th
entered in the contest: Your recent Precious Gem
Placement: none
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