The sun descends in robes of fire and gold,
A king retiring to the edge of day.
His glory fades, yet stories will be told
Of how he burned, then softly slipped away.
The moon looks on with eyes of silver light,
A timid gaze, so full of silent grace.
She hides behind the veil of coming night,
Yet longs to touch the warmth upon his face.
She dreams he’ll turn and cast a glance her way,
To brush her pale cheek with a golden hand.
To meet him once within the arms of day,
And write their tale across the sky's wide span.
But time denies what hearts may not erase
A love that lives in light, yet lacks embrace.
*Sonnet
©®Madhumita
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