Luna

My favourite time of the day, sunset.

When darkness falls and the sky is lit up,

you mutter words that cease the alphabet. 

Moonlight falls, lighting up the buttercups.

The sky is pink, orange, blue and purple. 

Going, going, gone, the sky is deep black.

Lit up by millions of stars, a circle. 

Luna shines brightly, never looking back.

The suns rays peek above the mountain range, 

lighting up the button grass plains and the

tumbleweed. The stream of light shines out change. 

But no bright stars twinkle above and the 

sun sinks lower in the blue sky, the dusk

long ago. Going, going, going, gone.