Every evening is a conversation,
Sun’s retiring talk with a dear tree
“I’ll come in the morn looking for you!
I’ll knock on the doors of darkness with a request
To let my rays caress with love, your gentle leaves
As they swing with joy, with hope, to see another dawn
Waiting for me to bring that dawn to you
I’ll come, but promise, that you will not let...
The black dusk swallow it all up - every time I am gone.”