Whispers of Dusk Where hillovers in the field of twilight lay. And greenery goes far, far away. A golden light, a fading ray, Coats it [the land] with mild putrefraction. The last ounce of the day, a simple blow. When day escapes, and the sun leaves the horizon behind early in the evening. I only know, where distant trees are against it. Subtitles that gently fade out. There is silence, an iron curtain is drawn over the existence of the people. When nature’s chorus starts, to spill: A symphony of wind and rill, Where the atmosphere of silence prevails. The Sun setting down a magnificent globe of fires Looming large and high: a series of silhouettes. Once the enchantment of the twilights begin. And day bowed before night powers hands over. If you have a different style or the theme which has to be used in the poem, please, let me know.