LOST IN A BLOOD RED SKY

The sun sets slowly,
growing in intensity and brilliance.
A waltz, a dance with the shoreline,
I find myself where the sky turns bolder.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come
to appreciate the gradations
from golden to molten,
to auburn to full burn.
To red sky at night,
this word sailor delights
in the sight of a blood red sky.

© Walter J Wojtanik

Poems of Garden Gnomes – April Poetry Month – Day 2

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