The Last Blue Before Black

The sun dipped low, a tired wink,

behind the brick, so tall and grim.

The sky turned bruised, upon the brink

of losing light, limb after limb.

No streetlights yet, just faded gold,

a kind of hush, a held-back sigh.

A story whispered, ages old,

between the day and coming sky.

The world went soft, edges blurred,

colors deepened, strange and true.

A silent message, softly heard,

of moments fading, passing through.

And in that pause, that half-lit space,

a melancholy, sweet and deep.

Before the night claims every trace,

and puts the weary world to sleep.