The Sunset
The wind blows sweetly through the trees,
Pink, orange, purple, blue,
Just after the yellow ball has gone down,
The stars pop up one by one,
The leaves rustle, the trees bend,
Flowing like pen and ink.
It makes a lovely summer breeze.
This is the sky's hue.
The moonlit sky shows with nay a frown.
Just when the sun is done.
This is the day's end.
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