I wrote this in seventh grade.
--
The Sunset
The sun disappears slowly behind the mountains' peaks
Framed by the cloudless sky.
The wind blows softly and in my ear it speaks
Of ages long gone by.
One by one the legends unfold
As the stars come out tonight,
Pictures painted in tales of old
And told by the twinkling light.
The sun slowly fades from view,
A last moment of color as farewell.
As the moon comes out, the earth looks new,
And silenced as if by a spell.
New sounds arise, the songs of the earth,
The night's own gifts to the world.
The nighttime itself is of immeasurable worth
As the priceless scenes unfurl.
