As Sunday wanes, the evening falls,
A gentle hush as darkness calls.
The fading light, a soft caress,
Bids farewell to the day’s finesse.
The stars emerge, a twinkling sight,
Painting the canvas of the night.
In quiet streets, the world grows still,
As Sunday’s end, with grace, fulfills.
Fireside tales, in cozy rooms,
Mingle with the scent of blooms.
A peaceful sigh, as day recedes,
And Sunday’s magic gently pleads.
Reflections dance in the candle’s glow,
On Sunday’s eve, memories flow.
A gentle sigh, a whispered prayer,
For moments cherished beyond compare.
Though Sunday bids its sweet adieu,
Its essence lingers, ever true.
For in its closing, we find grace,
And hold its beauty in embrace.
So, as the night unfolds its wings,
And Sunday fades, as daylight dims,
Let gratitude within us rise,
For Sundays past, for Sunday’s skies.