The Twilight Promise

The light that dies still clings to golden air,

A whispered memory, beyond compare.

The horizon burns with amber, soft and deep,

While secrets that the waking world must keep

Begin to rise.

​For on that edge where day must kiss its end,

The silver crescent starts its slow ascent.

It is a sliver promise, thin and bright,

To pierce the remnants of the fading light.

​And then, the stars—they do not wait for dark,

But break the blue with their celestial mark.

A canopy of wonder, clear and vast,

Where two impossible beauties meet and last.

​It is a moment born for lovers' eyes,

Where fire and eternity collide in skies.

A golden farewell, and a cosmic start,

The sacred silence where we gave our heart.