Orange Sky At Night

The orange sky leans low on the edge of day,
A held breath stretched across the fading blue,
Where sunlight breaks itself in molten sway
And pours its last confessions into view.

Clouds drift like embers loosened from a flame,
Their edges burned with copper, rust, and rose,
As if the heavens briefly spoke your name
Before retreating where the nightlight goes.

The world grows quiet under amber fire,
Shadows lengthen, learning how to pray,
And every restless thought begins to tire
As daylight gently practices its way.

At last the orange thins to ash and gold,
A promise kept by leaving, not by stay,
And in that glow, both tender and bold,
The heart learns how to end and not betray.