TWILIGHT

A gentle sigh at eventide,
ethereal; a voice aside
and as the first stars deem to rise
the moon goes up, becomes the prize
of the night

The world takes on a softer hue,
as lavenders, purples imbue
the cold hard lines into softer view,
a gentle limning shining through,
right on cue

I want to rest here for a while
free from grief, free from guile--
pretending it's my private isle
as twilight softly works its wile
and I smile.