Sunset

A minute style poem written for the Writer's Cramp.

The sky ignites with crimson flame,
the fading light too wild to tame,
it melts to gold,
so soft, so bold.

The clouds drift low in blushing seas,
the hush is held by breathless trees,
the world leans in,
the dreams begin.

Night's velvet hands now draw the shade,
the final glow must gently fade,
the stars take flight,
born of the night.