Nightfall

The sun is sinking fast;
the west is painted with warm glowing colours.
It reluctantly leaves at last,
Still clinging with bright fingers
that slowly lose their grasp and cast
long shadows on the grass.

It is twilight now
over the dusky meadows.
Little lights twinkle and glow,
scattered like fairydust.
Are they stars that God forgot to throw
into the deep blue skies?
No, not stars, but fireflies.

The moonlight washes like an ocean wave
edging leaves in silver,
making the sun seem a bold and brazen knave.
Its soft, cool touch kisses sleeping faces,
causing patterns like dancing laces.