Sunset

A soft glow slowly spreads across the horizon as Apollo's chariot disappears
It is the faint blush of first love, the scent of roses.
Simple at first, it gains complexity. Now it is the orange of leaves in autumn. Of ripe mango juice dripping down your chin. The golden light of a trophy gleaming in the hands of a winner.
This fiery blaze moves up and up, consuming the sky, cavorting with the puffs of clouds which tango through the haze of colors.
Then, from the outside of your gaze creeps a tinge of violet. This is the violet of the first flowers of spring. Of the dusky gaze of a solitary sprite who creeps into your path at twilight. Next it darkens to blueberry pie, which is spilled across the brilliant orange and red tablecloth. This indigo is the color of a symphony rising to its climax, it is the color of a monarch rising to meet her people.
Abruptly, the symphony comes to a close, the blueberry pie darkens and the gold and vermillion are nowhere to be found...
The sunset has died, now to wait until the next time Apollo's chariot slips beneath the horizon.