When the sun dips low, painting skies with fire, And the world becomes a canvas I desire. The horizon melts in hues of red and gold, Each sunset a story that silently unfolds.

Quietly I sit, wrapped in twilight’s glow, Listening to the whispers of the winds that blow. In this sacred hour, there’s peace to be found, In the arms of nature, my spirit unbound.

• Siddhartha Giggs