When that old sun starts to sink and the day is almost done,
There stands a flamingo, tall and fine, bathing in the setting sun.
Pink as the blush when a secret's shared, or a love song softly hummed,
In the mirror of the quiet lake, two flamingos become one.
Balanced on one slender leg, like a dancer in a dream,
Underneath the twilight sky, by the still and silent stream.
His feathers catch the dying light, a sight to make hearts glow,
And all the beauty of the day, in that flamingo does show.
Then with a rush and a soft winged hush, into the dusk he flies,
A silhouette against the night, soaring through the skies.
Even as the darkness falls, and stars begin their show,
In our hearts, the image stays, of the flamingo's gentle glow.
