Beneath the blush of twilight’s gentle kiss, A farmhouse rests, its timeworn walls aglow. Fields stretch like patchwork quilts, their furrows bliss, And mist weaves secrets only dusk can know. The barn stands sentinel, its roof of red, A guardian of memories etched in wood. As shadows lengthen, day and night are wed, And whispers of the past weave through the hood. The hills, half-hidden in their shroud of haze, Hold tales of seasons, storms, and harvest gold. A symphony of crickets softly plays, While stars emerge—a timeless tale unfolds. In twilight’s arms, the world finds sweet release, And dreams take flight upon the breeze’s lease.