A dull February evening heard through
An open window; smelled first, seen second.
Cars drive to and fro, as the dusk begins
To fade into time but not memory.
Remarkably unremarkable, this
Dimming candle light outside my window,
Glowing orange over suburbia,
No different to any other day.
Yet, on this day, the setting sun is a
Sign of something saying goodbye to me…
And of something new being born within.
(my second attempt at the iambic pentametre is slightly better than the first, I think).
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