Sunset
Your untiring ,egalitarian quill
Rests a while on the rose wood
table,
Your mind wanders lonely
As the clouds of bardic epiphany,
The ambered ,tired retires,
Behind the Hill,
It looks as if
The angry ,infuriated giant
Who customises Day and Night,
draws The chariot back
into his orb,
You look forward to the
Restoration, it is past midnight,
Slowly the chirps of
Strange notations
on the Orange flowered tree :
Sunrise like The Happening
Thrills you. your quill back
To its moods.
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