© Ben Heine || Facebook || Twitter || www.benheine.com
I've taken this picture in the South West of France, digitally enhanced... just a bit.
For more information about my artwork: email@example.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.
The poem appeared on www.poemhunter.com/peter-s-quinn