Sunset

In the material of the western sky, a show-stopper unfurls,

An embroidery of tints, a story untold.

The sun, an exhausted voyager, starts its plummet,

Painting the skyline in shades of consumed sienna and coral, paradise sent.

The mists, similar to wisps of dreams, accumulate 'round,

As the sun's brilliant fingers touch the ground.

A searing ball, a liquid sphere, says farewell,

Creating shaded areas that dance, an outline rendezvous.

The mountains, indifferent gatekeepers, embrace the shine,

Their pinnacles are on fire with a warm, golden corona.

Reflecting pools shine in the blurring light,

Catching the substance of this heavenly flight.

A delicate breeze helps murmur through the trees,

As nature stops to observe effortlessly.

Birds serenade the sun on its last drop,

Their tunes a recognition, an agreeable regret.

The world pauses its breathing in a peaceful respite,

As the sun sinks beneath, disappearing.

However, afterward, a commitment is turned,

Of another daybreak, another day, when the ashes of sundown are finished.