Prompt: Sunset
Nightbird
Their hair, which is of similar pure shades of gold, catches the crimson of the dying light; and I see it, from where I perch above them, as a blushéd vision of the radiance of this love of theirs – incapable of being contained upon their young faces.
She would bring him here at this time of day. Only she could understand the aching of the twilight we share in this place on high, with kingdoms underfoot. And she is in pain, yes; listen to how she moans for me and cries my name as he presses her against his hopeless heart.
