Twilight Poem by gershon hepner

At twilight you are like a nimbus cloud
illuminated by the setting sun,
in daylight paler than a dead man’s shroud,
but in the dying light the colors run
into each other, the epitome
of red when I regard your lips, and blue
when in your dark-dilated eyes I see
my favorite color, and your point of view
becomes coincident with mine soon after
the sun sets, just before a single star
begins to shine. Quite soon, I’ll hear your laughter,
when you observe me, lighting my cigar.