The Sunset Keeper

the dimly lit bulb snaps on

illuminating thousands of dusty boxes

row upon row

each one I know.

lovingly, my fingers trace snail trails

in the grey fluff

gathering in the gloom

I don't often come into this room.

But today is a special occasion.

in a nearly forgotten nook

lies a tiny container

also nearly forgotten, but not quite

and today feels right.

today just feels so right.

outside, the sun

races across the pale blue sky

quickly dipping towards the horizon

and this small box's time has come.

up the stairs, 

out the door

I face the west

And wake a sunset from its rest.

the box opens

with a melancholy sigh,

tinged deep with memories of old

Emerges a figure dressed in red, orange, and gold.

free is the sunset.

laughing with the voices

of children now grown

she flies to the timid night

and the reluctant day

bridging the gap

between dark and light

pulling both into a beautiful dance

of red, blue, orange, purple, white, and black.

the sun slips sullenly away

the moon blushes, climbing higher

stars each put in their say

and so ends another day.

Exhausted, the sunset comes back.

and I, The Keeper of the Sunset,

tuck her back inside her cozy box

where she rests

until next time.

 

Reviews

[V]

i really like how you created this story. the words, some pretty simple, some more sophisticated ones put together make a good mix and create a lovely and happy mood in this poem. i also like the personification of the sunset. to make it a female person is such a nice thought :)

[Dearantlers]

Beautiful! The putting her back in the box, was so unexpected, and yet, so good. I loved it!

[Daniel Atkinson]

I wrote a poem for this title, too, although mine's considerably shorter.

"Laughing with the voices of children now grown"... kick-a*s work, my friend. This is a wonderfully descriptive poem. Nicely done.