#WritcoPoemPrompt34
At the edge of the furthest mountain,
Between the valley and the lazy river,
Beyond the edge of the scented meadow,
I can see the hues paintedby the setting sun.

Whispers of wind dance with the twilight,
Softly brushing the evening’s face,
Carrying dreams from distant places,
As the sky drips gold into endless space.

The stars awaken, shy and silent,
Glimmering like secrets yet to be told,
And as the world fades into quiet,
Night unfurls its velvet fold.
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