Sunset

The fresh blood flows freely
over the lush grass
of the meadow. The reddened hue,
the giver of life, knocked
as a careless child with
a pot of paint.

The fresh red darkens
to orange then blue, mixing
with the skies star, hiding
from the night.

The next day it rises with
the colours of love, pink
and blue. Through the day, till the end,
where it dies a bloody death