Golden Hour
A poem by Arend Thibodeau
The sun touches the horizon
Sending colors into the sky.
Crimson and violet, beauty
That cannot sustain.
The golden glory
Fades away
We must be ready for night.
Twilight’s gleam brings shadows
And we become apparitions
Our glow is no longer vibrant
But grey like a sunless winter.
In the waning light
We are reminded
All things beautiful
Fade away