Fading Light

The balcony holds me, a sentinel’s view,

as the sun bids farewell, bleeding bright into blue.

Colors explode, like fireworks in flight,

as I cling to the glow, to the last hint of light.

Each moment a brushstroke, a canvas unspooled,

I yearn to capture this brilliance, but it’s cruel.

For darkness creeps in, with its quiet demand,

and the shadows take shape, slipping soft through my hand.

I feel something shift, a pang in the chest,

as the day surrenders, a time for the rest.

Yet here in this twilight, I linger and pine,

for the glow of the day, and the spark of the divine.