Twilight: A Poem

The golden hour, coffee in hand

Gentle waves shift the sand

Twilight flows, the glare it mellows

the lines on her face and the leaves in yellows

Sun dips down over the hill

Her hands at rest, her heart is still

Peace is here

44 words, by chance.

I’ve missed the last two Friday Fictioneers, (time is the nemesis) but joining this weekend’s writing prompt. Thanks to Sammi and Rochelle for keeping the creative juices flowing.