Sunset Artist Poem by Irene D..

A ball of fire, shooting flames
In brightness galore, like a lion's mane
Though it is fierce, the blinder, the heat
It is more than by which our eyes see
This is an artist, worthy of fame.

As the clock's beat slows with the rush of day
In its blazing splendor, it shoots out its rays
Like paintbrushes they glide across pieces of sky
The grace and skill, hinting last light
And the colour appears, as the sun fades.

To the garden where such sweet flowers grow
The rays wisp down and steal the colour of rose
Then as autumn leaves fall softly down
The rays reach out, and the leaf's colour is drowned
Then away they go, in the winds smooth blows

The sun has melted candies on clouds
Creating vibrancy of paint not allowed
The sky it's canvas, it makes it hold
The beauty of real, true gold
And the colour, the shine, thunders loud

Then eyes flutter up to the sight up above
Behold a beauty of nature love
The mighty ruler of the painting sheet
It's work at last is made complete
It is the artist of the sky, the fierce sun.