Muse: Setting Sun

I wonder why you hide behind the hills and clouds

Shying away from the approaching airy evening

Birds fly in echelon, calling a farewell as they went

Trees reflection on the waters hung like a rag on the rail

As frogs resumed their croaky songs

Hundreds of bass voices singing, in harmony

The cream colored clouds melt before the retreating day

As queer images are drawn across the skies,

At the distance the shepherd calls to his sheep

For the solemn day and his entourage has packed up their caravan

And soon the clouds will bury them all in her warm embrace

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