Transitions Poem by Richa Sharma

Far at the horizon
gold is melting into the blues
giving way to the darkening hues.

Tints of silver are peeping from the sky.
A mild breeze is crooning a lullaby.
Shades of life are getting serene.
Silhouettes are vanishing from the scene.

Drops of dew are tip-toeing on the leaves,
dancing softly on their sleeves.
See, the dark is getting out of sight.
This is the descent of the night.

Lo! gold again is coming on,
marking ascent of the dawn.