The glossy sapphire silk rolls in, covered with flecks of gold.
The daylight melts away as the moon above oversees the rolling up of fabric.
As the sun bids the time zone goodnight, the yellow gold fades to pink gold.
The boat becomes more shadowed as it drifts lazily at its moor;
The dock drifts as if borne on the high seas by a gentle wind.
I look down as I sadly bid farewell to the rolling damask.
In the morning the flecks of gold will become shimmering white gold.
The evening blue and pink will turn to a morning blue and a dull emerald.
But the silk will not return til evening, and by then I will be long gone.
