Upon His Canvass

My dear bright friend is taking his leave.

The streets he lit all day he shall now relieve.
Into a calm red ball he has withdrawn.
Gradually he descends and soon is gone.
The Lord’s favorite canvass, the evening brings.
The sky is now tinged with His mood swings.

The workaholic moon shall soon take his place
And the dark sky shall highlight his face.
The stars shall decorate the black sky soon,
so eager to accompany the very handsome moon.
The sun has set and soon so shall I.
But the moon shall bask in the glory of the night sky.


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