I've taken this picture in the South West of France, digitally enhanced... just a bit. ____________________________________________________
For more information about my artwork: info@benheine.com ____________________________________________________
Day After Day There is Sunset
A poem by Peter S. Quinn
Day after day there is sunset, Beautiful ashtrays of yellow dust; All what days of the days meet, Rays of the sunshine hours of lust. The eyes inside the evening, Before the day is all gone; Where lark and small birds sing, There in red layered setting sun.
Dark blue and half lonely, The hours that dark gives away; Shadows of night dancing only, With tone of the wind that play. Rides of the moon in clouds, Water that glances in a glow; Streets empty without crowds, All is now in silent and slow.
Lips of a dream now kisses, Wings of the darkish flowers; Brings to a thought night wishes, Before return of morn hours. How does a dim make doubts, Vividly morning coloured orange; Brushing away grey burn-outs, Giving the light again change.
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