I love the way twilight silences the sounds, the hustling and bustling of people. Sometimes it's even more quiet than the dead of the night. Everyone temporarily retreats house to get ready for something. Wheather it be sleep, a sleepover, a night on the town, a date, something. And that's why the night is never really quiet, not as quiet as now, when the sun's last rose-red rays warm the blackening sky. All the while the moon's white nothingness mounted its cypress throne. All the colours were fading, everything fading to black, grey, even white; like a vintage photograph. Unique, but dull all at once. As to where twilight is like a sepia-tinted picture, intresting. A late deer sips the misty golden water a hundred feet away and the birds whisper thier last requiem. But I get the feeling that someone has pressed the mute button on all earth, even my own conciouscan shut down t times like these. The air blew into our meadow and chilled my skin, not for long, the paticular evening air was an unblended mix of warm and cool. I inhaled the scent, husky like a bonfire, except thick with the sell of wild onion, sweet just faintly. I felt perfection wrap itself around me, drawing me close. I laid on perfection's chest. Leaving my cushion of golden-green grass which sprund toward the dying sun as I left it. "Edward..." I whispered, staring at the sun one last time, as it faded away. The transformation was complete, it was night now and thye noises of nocturnal creatures filled my alert ears. "I love twilight..." my voice broke, I didn't know what else to say. He was as graceful as the moving from noon to night.
A smile curled his fine lips and his golden eyes locked with my own pathetic brown ones, "I love you." He sealed it with a kiss.
