If wishes were sunsets, 
They had return, fulfilled every evening.
To someone waiting for you,
In tirelessly open arms.
By that rusty open door,
That creaks by every gust of wind,
In faint lingering pauses,
Those counting the morning footprints,
In ceaseless watch for their recall.

If wishes were sunsets, 
Birds of a scorching day,
Would scurry back in longing flights,
To dusk that glowed like a dawn,
And slept sound in a night comfort. 

If wishes were sunsets,
Travelers of some misplaced muse,
Would gather fragments of their lost notes,
In desires of a reclusive song, 
That she once hummed by the salacious arch.

If wishes were sunsets,
Firmaments of a staring flare,
Would not taunt the creeping moonlight,
Tracing figures of night demons, 
Chasing away the shadows wait. 

If wishes were sunsets,
The night would unwind at a damsels pace,
Filling the bare of an empty window,
Where her day veils hung in covers of dark,
Yearning to weave dreams in moonshine threads.

If wishes were sunsets,
They would walk in each other’s arms,
In vanishing aurora of a fading evening,
And drown the sun by the afire lake shore,
Wishing to live an eternal night.