Stirring breezes
murmuring secrets
in the falling shades of night
in the fragrant
damask flushed rapturous
dying of the day
the heady wine of twilight
sleeping stars, roused
from violet celestial forests
shyly quivering
in calm and beauteous rapture
while the sunset lingers in ecstasy
in the pearled vault of heaven
© Ann Bagnall
Annie's Poetry 
“When the sun has set, no candle can replace it.”
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