\"The Moon is beautiful, isn’t it?\"
He says with a voice as soft as night,
A gentle plea in the silver light,
Hoping love will answer in quiet bloom.
It hangs eternal, steady and true,
A silent witness to hearts that soar,
A love confessed in the evening hue,
Boundless, timeless, forevermore.
But then, \"The Sunset is beautiful, isn’t it?\"
He murmurs as colors bleed to dark,
A fleeting glow, a final spark,
As love dissolves in the fading view.
Its beauty stings, a bittersweet flame,
The end of a chapter, a curtain drawn.
Though hearts ache, they’ll never be the same,
For the sunset lives, even when it’s gone.
One phrase to kindle, one to close,
Each a truth that lingers near.
The Moon for love that stays and grows,
The Sunset for love that disappears.