Skies of Hope

Rays of burning gold descend:
One more day comes to an end.
Warming amber paints the sky
And the clouds are beautified.

Magic trails are left behind,
Seemingly endless and white,
As the airplanes fade away;
A new border: night and day.

Forests turn to fiery black,
As the light turns into dark,
As the valleys—once alive—
Become still and renounce light.

Golden daylight disappears
Behind distant, empty hills;
Fireflies now take its place
And the veil of darkness face.

Rays of burning gold descend:
One more day comes to an end.
Warming amber paints the sky
As I hear the lullaby.

Sacred whispers touch my ears
And I stop in place to hear.
Soothing song surrounds my soul
And embraces me as whole.

– Patricia