Evening came,
and with gentle strokes
laid colour on the valley.
Smooth grey
over the hills,
Purple swirls
across the mountain,
Fluff of off-white
for the clouds.
While across the flats
of emerald,
she painted black fingers,
reaching out
to cover the rays
of the setting sun.
Quietly she brushed
runs of silver,
dotted with gold,
onto the ripples
of the river.
On every leaf
that faced the west,
she carefully drew
burnished brilliance,
till they danced
as diamonds.
Evening cameā€¦
and my heart knew morning!

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