The sky is dying flame.
Let’s whisper its virtues on the porch.
No sob stories, no regret
Not with what we have accomplished.

The willful child is now a comely wife.
The rat of a kid is like the sun,
a huge face and grinning yellow.
We are welcome in each other’s eyes, .. ,

Dusk was made for reflection.
The clink of glasses likewise. .
The world shimmers in a bottle of claret –
the uncorking of wine, the unleashing of familiarity:.