Sunsets are enchanting. But at times, when the sun bids adieu, I feel a strange sadness enveloping me—as if it has faded forever and may never rise again. I first experienced this gloom when I left my place and people behind to start a life of my own. I would stare at the setting sun—so beautiful—through teary eyes, as my train chugged beyond my land, adding infinite grief to an already aching heart.
During the time that there was no such pain or pressure, the sheer beauty of the colors that spread across the sky would leave me spellbound. I was filled with hope, joy, love. I felt blessed and touched. I remember a time that the love of my life drove me up a pathless hill in a little car to show me the setting sun. He knew I loved sunsets. Time stood still, as I soaked in the energy of the place, the sight of the fading sun, the magic of it all. The dying sun proved contrary to its state by giving me new life through my lover.
I hope to be able to feel that magic once more. I hope for the madness of youth to touch me again. I wish for my love to strive to impress me, please me, for butterflies to flutter in my belly again. I wish to steal a kiss as the sun sets, to feel the strength inherent in true love. I wish to experience the magic of a perfect sunset, not by myself, but resting upon the shoulders of a loving man. Should I wish for a different love this time? (Wink!)