Twilight

The lights flicker on and on and on
like our love that has grown so fond--
so fond like petals blooming in the spring afternoon.
But it's fading out like a solar eclipse.
How long will it be till it doesn't exist?
The lights flicker on and on and on
illuminating everything till dusk looks like dawn--
till wrong looks like right,
till black looks like white
and our love is fading in the bitter twilight.