The Sunset

Last night the sky threw a party.
The clouds were the first to arrive,
dressed in their clean white party frocks.

They mingled around,
politely admiring the decorations
and sipping their drinks

until the sun rushed in,
late as usual and out of breath,
and collided with the drinks table.

Crash! Splash!
Orange cordial and pink lemonade flew everywhere,
drenching the clouds’ white dresses.

Those clouds were furious!
Their cheeks flushed red
and they yelled and yelled at the unfortunate sun.

The sky, always hating a scene,
tried to smooth things over
by bringing out the birthday cake.

They all sang happy birthday,
loudly and slightly out of tune,
as the sun shuffled forward to get a closer look.

But that clumsy sun got tangled in the tablecloth,
knocked the cake over, scattered the candles
and set the tablecloth alight! Grey smoke billowed out.

Embarrassed,
the sun slipped away from the party,
over the horizon and out of sight,

leaving the clouds fuming with anger,
their splattered frocks
smudged with grey.

The sky sighed.
It would try again
tomorrow.

© Kristin Martin 2018

This poem was first published in Orbit, Issue No. 3, The School Magazine, April 2018.  It is also in my poetry book, To Rhyme or Not to Rhyme? (Glimmer Press, 2019).