Sunset

Sunset.

My favourite plaything.
I cuddle in it. End of talks,
tasks, of meaningless huddles.
Birds retiring to their nests;
a festival begins, that of
a well-deserved rest.

For me, bedtime stories
of the past, stuffed toys
of unbreakable memories
surround the hopeful air
with crimson hues,
the trained profiteering mind
will unchain again, soon the sky
will be full of silver stars,
my little eyes will relive the
comforting lines,
those twinkling lullabies.

 
Time says times.

Tomorrow.
The sun will rise.
Its lightness, full with
golden promises will
perhaps be the same,
yet, I will await the sunset,
to play my silent game.