The day is spreading its arms
To receive a kiss of dark,
And with this embrace,
The two painters start to fight,
In their mystery, they collide...

Calmly at first, only a blue flirt,
More violently afterwards,
As the mauve appears,
The daylight seems to have surrendered,
But then, the slaughter comes,
And the bloody sky amazes our eyes...

A pure virgin pink
Seems to indicate a fragile kiss,
Twilight, dusk, I’d like to be
Ever trapped in your colors,
I would like to start painting
As my eyes are straying upon your face,
I want you to paint in my poetry,
Bring me inspiration,
The poet’s twilight!

The night is spreading its flowers
All through day’s shining hair,
Flowers of night, flowers of sleep,
The day is surrendering itself
To a blissful dark blue,
To a beautiful dream...

The stars are whispering:
“What is a poet, if not a sky?
The muse is the one who brings the shades,
The nuances, in that moment of deep liberation! ”
Twilight fades taking with it, my inspiration...

©Elya Thorn. Do not republish without permission!
Part of 'Dark Whisperings and Invocations'

Elya Thorn

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-ever-changing-colors-of-the-twilight/