Twilight

Day was set aside from the night,
Owing to the creator's might,
The artist's blue hour of light,
Makes many a magical sight,
As the bleak darkness becomes due,
It edges its way into view,
There's a rich and rarely seen blue,
An almost impossible hue,
The sky enters a splintered state,
Whenever the hour gets late,
Then yet again after a wait,
We see a wiping of the slate,
Each night sight of the scene is caught,
Beauty is found that's often sought,
And though the time it lasts is short,
It turns out better than you thought.

poem by Christian Lacdael
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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