At Dusk

After a long day of chores

and heartbreaks,

I look out of the window for solace.

Dusk.

The Sun, now red

like ambers close to an end,

is washed by the ocean waves

of the thin wisps of clouds.

Kissed by the sleepy Sun,

the clouds blush.

The orange Moon,

hiding all day

from the burning anger

of her father,

now comes to face.

She sings quiet songs

made of silver beams

drowning away his rage.

He sleeps at the horizon,

in the arms of dark Night

to wake the next day.

With a quietened heart,

I now seek Hope—

tomorrow

will be a new day.