A floating cloud signaling twilight.
A trickling cascade of lukewarm light.
The fiery sand, now heartless and cold.
The horizon blurred with a fading gold.
The boisterous wind, now drowsy and dull.
The lively sounds are nursing a lull.
The trees look on with a furtive gaze.
A path unravels in a misty haze.
The silence is heavy, unnatural, appalling.
The curtain of darkness is steadily falling.
Violet is blossoming from crimson and red.
From the embrace of twilight, the night has spread.