In the golden hour’s gentle sigh,
The horizon holds a fiery glow,
Whispers of the day wave goodbye,
As shadows begin their soft, slow flow.

Crimson and amber paint the sky,
A canvas where dreams softly dance,
The sun dips low, bidding goodbye,
In twilight’s tender, fleeting glance.

Waves shimmer with a golden hue,
Reflecting the sky’s tender flame,
In this moment, both old and new,
The world and time are one, the same.

As the night softly claims its place,
Stars awaken in the darkened sea,
Yet the sunset leaves its trace,
A memory of day’s gentle plea.