The far horizon swathed in red

has bid the dying sun to bed

as she slips slowly out of sight,

and daylight fades to welcome night.

 

I see this evening in my head,

the far horizon swathed in red,

where wavelets wash that dark'ning sand

that calls to mind a distant land.

 

A fleeting thought begins to gleam,

as if in some forgotten dream;

the far horizon swathed in red,

and memories that long have fled.

 

Yet something whispers through the years,

a haunting breath to reach my ears

and wonder if you still may tread

the far horizon swathed in red.