Comments about Old Poet
When the sun paints the sky with fire
as it slowly disappears,
I recall the sad twilight time
when my love was in arrears.
When the sun slips the horizon,
its wake in radiant afterglow,
I think of once glorious nights
when I knew passion's peak and flow.
When the sun is set and long gone
and stars are diamonds in the night,
my dreams are of the splendid days
when the sunset was love's delight.