Forever Watching.

The sun tucked away

in glorious rose, violet, blues and greys.

It spoke of promises yet to be made.

As it drifted away. Sleep would come

to some. In the morning we would wake

to find the sun creeping up in golden shades.

Wake we must. Today we trust in what our world will create.

Washing us from sleep filled haze to a brighter, golden day.

Night Morning

He called it night morning

The dusky ending of the day.

The part when the sun, quietly tucks away.

He called it night morning

Because it is like the dawn.

The lighting is the same.

The spirit feels this calm.

He called it night morning

In his wise six years.

Explained so elegantly.

Poetic music to the ears.

Now forever etched into my brain

A beautiful sunset, night morning, it’s all the same.