The twilight sun, retreats to its nadir,
Moon-rise! Flanked by its twinkling fellowship,
And the darkened groves their softest shadows wear,
The night beckons me with its gentle courtship.
I lay on the dew freshened grass, after,
A day’s worth of masquerade done,
And the night fans a gentle zephyr,
My dolor appears to be bygone.
The stars begin their twinkling monologue,
Through the thinly veil of the night sky,
The night-sound deliver the day’s epilogue,
And where I lay, the fireflies pry.
I lay like a toddler, in the night’s lap,
Serene and lost in my reverie,
And the philomel’s lullaby puts me to sleep,
Amidst the splendor of the night’s glory.
