It is magical
To walk out
When the sun is about to set
The golden light
On faces of tired souls
A glimmer of hope for their fate
It is nice
To take the train
When the sun has almost set
The skies radiant
Painted with many hues
Like a messy canvas spread above
It is hard
To think of tomorrow
When the cycle predictably repeats
The everyday circuit
The endless circling back
Like a log in a whirlpool
It is reassuring
To crave for dusk
For it will return just like tomorrow
