The arms of the sun upraised
in their last pink salute at sunset
before the great arc of golden glory
fell slowly to the wayside.
A duo. two minute figures
trudged home through the snow
which had come to rest calmly and softly
crunching underfoot as the air cooled
in a glittering  specticle of beauty
and the zephyr of wind played at the plumes of blueing smoke
rising in contrast to the suns falling
like two lovers coming together
in loving embrace.

And soon the darkness fell
not as a shade to block out intruding eyes
peeping through a curtain.
but more sinister.
yes, as a suffocating blanket of void.
the hidden grandur became deathly cold and silent
and in its silent danger
a menacing mist arose from out of the ground
softly engulfing the mountains, so tall and sheer.
as the pale moon
dealt death to those still there
the day was done.
It was finished.
fallen to unspeakable fate.
the brass called from the abyss
silently to the dead.