The Terrace
Huge red-orange sun slowly recede,
Upon the sky seem to bleed;
Whispers of night, calling home,
Such sunset days rarely spent alone.
Look ahead to starry skies;
Not time for early goodbyes.
Without love cannot the heart grow-
A new day comes beyond the rainbow!
Warm Paris breeeze gently blow-
Roses atop the bureau;
Music with a certain ease;
Smooth jazz, if you please.
In darkness of shadows, waits he!
The night is young-for me!
Stars appear, quiet avenue.
Farewell dawn skies of baby blue.
When from misty dreams awakes,
When tomorrow sunrise overtakes,
Come listen music play,
On gold terrace of the sunny day!
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