As the sun decends
In the West,
It paints
Crimson and orange hues
Across the horizon.
Many boats sail across the
Waters of the bay,
Layered with the
Traces and shadows
Of darkness.
Along the shore
On top a hill
There's a familar beckon landmark
Of the journey that stands
This century old lighthouse
Remains quiet and dark
Since it's been
Abandoned for years.