The breeze stopped blowing,
whispering secrets no more.
Stood still in awe
of the paradise around.
Yearning to shine bright,
the North Star, faintly visible,
took its first breaths
of that stellar night.
Red and Orange mingled.
The horizon was a death bed,
the mighty Sun lay on it.
One last caress.
One last kiss.
Down went the mighty Sun,
the last of its brilliance
gobbled by the Death Bed.
Night had fallen.
Whimsical Wordsmith 