Sunset

The lake stretches from the bluff;
Opaque glass with texture rough,
Rippled by a painter’s brush
Whose hand has lost its steady touch.

To the west, a gap has formed:
A dimpled sky with lake below,
Painted red by the sun’s last glow,
Bursting through in his final throw.

The wind now cries his final call.
Cold and sharp, he gives no lull.
The clouds above join as a pall
As the sun sinks quickly, ending all.

We, together, watch the scene
Unfold before us like a dream;
But even now, hope springs anew.
For in that moment, I join with you.