Evanescence of Twilight
When the sun is not up,
Trees are the last to be told.
Their sleep is long felt,
The hours just roll and roll.
The flowers are up and ready,
To reach to the sky,
Through puffy clouds,
The shiny planes passed by.
The moon hangs back,
We will see her again;
In her brilliance last night,
The evanescence of twilight,
A cold embrace of starlight.
It was little comfort,
To be there weary,
In front of their far off places,
Some say there aren't there,
Burnt out long ago.
I have hope they're wrong,
But I doubt we'll ever know.
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