This evening

This evening, per hour when the half-light will recover the day, I from will go away. On the path trodden by the wind.  Between the branches folded back by the howling breath. I will approach. Near to this moment when the sun dies of a slow descent with gravity of the air for parachute. Being inserted beyond the horizon in a last glare before its ultimate fall. There I will remain to expect the noises of the night. The whistle of the raptors, the cry of the gulls, until the end of the trouble. I am on standby of you. These intertwined last hours. Now forgotten. I remember your taste for the birth of the dark moments; moments when there is no more law. Gray color with the mixture of black and white. Colors which defined your burst of laughter being born. Your joy of melting you among the shades hiding your misfortunes. Also your fears.Equipped with the lies of the night smoothing truth with dark lapse of memory. Locate where you are flees. Taking the flight of the last glare of a sun being in hiding. To fall with him far behind the firmament. There, where I did not know to follow you. I am on standby of you. Seeking in your moods of the past, the trace to find you. On the path trodden by the wind.  Between the branches folded back by the howling breath. I will flee. On standby to be carried further than the sea does not see. To you.