Eventide

She was beautiful, like that of a horizon, specially when the sun leans down to kiss the edge of the sea. T'was a lovely romance, they'd say; 'bout a bright ball of yellow light who fell in love with all the beauties and dangers of the deep blue water. The sun would go down to meet the sea, even if it means its own death. And every day he would do this, every twilight and every sunset, he would constantly die for the one he loves. It's a wonderful piece of art, really. Only I can't seem to guess how many waking hours will it take before you realize that I am the sun, you are my sea.