The Last Waltz

Dust sleeps on the lake,

Its water empty and forgotten

Like the clouds' wispy shapes,

The swings dangling at the parks.

The first star remains pessimistic,

No one trusting it with wishes.

The others crowd around it,

Pushing, shoving, stretching white arms

And holding hands with moon rays.

The world dances slowly,

Twirling to the hooting owl,

A sad and loving lullaby.

A waltz not taught to me,

A dance fading into the night.

With dawn comes sunlight,

Gray and crying, a newborn baby,

And the moon bows,

A polite little gesture,

And it smiles as it leaves.

The sun warms the dusty waters,

The trees' rustling leaves,

A flower's beautiful petals,

Peaceful and harmonic.

Then comes the noon fire,

And heavy breathing,

Beads of salty water,

Sunglasses gone out of style,

Swirling in the boiling air.

Purple and red, harsh colors of pain,

Turn lovely under golden light,

And the goddess of the day

Turns her head and falls,

A grand and gallant exit.

The stars will slowly rise,

The moon wearing a new ensemble,

A subtle change almost lost

Under blind, mortal eyes.

For a moment, they collide,

The angels of the sky.

A moonlit smile, a sunlit frown,

Bittersweet lyrics.

They lock hands and twirl,

The day's last waltz,

Goodnight.