The evening sun is gleaming yellow,
not glaring harsh, to scold, chastise;
Like embers glowing, soft and mellow,
to bathe, embalm the tired skies.
It gently dips into the sea,
as weaving waves wave goodbye;
As ribbon clouds dance gracefully,
a tango in the orange sky.
Hues of burnt gold tinge the earth,
gilting edges with glitter lining;
Fireside musings at the hearth,
Lamplit families begin their dining.
How nice that at the end of days,
fatigue is eased with golden rays.
Roann Mendriq
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sunglow/
