Underneath this setting sun.

I love the setting sun.
It’s gold.
It’s amber.
It's dusky pinks.
My soul restores in this light.
Its nestles in.
This is home.
Air is cooling at a rapid rate.
The sun leaves us,
Like a promiscuous lover.
Gone to lay on the other side of the world.
The stars are ghostly children,
Taking their first steps on scene.
"Is he gone?" They say of the sun.
I swear I can see them smile, as they come out to play.
The night is theirs, but not quite yet.
The heavy heat of day flees from the land,
A vanquished foe.
Time.
The clock is the champion.
The sweet air drags from our skin the humid cling of the day.
Our lungs sing sighs of "Home, Home"
The brilliant light of ending day dims.
Sleepy, quiet and still.
Kissing the lips of our loves,
"Goodnight, Sleep tight."
And nothing could be sweeter than this April evening.
When we were alive, and young.
Underneath this setting sun.