She stands there with her hand up high,
watching colors paint the sky.
Orange, red, and golden light,
the day is turning into night.
Goodbye is just a word we say
when something beautiful goes away.
But look how pretty endings are,
with sunset glow and evening star.
The wind is playing with her hair,
she's waving at the empty air.
Maybe at a friend who left,
or dreams she kept inside her chest.
Some goodbyes hurt, that much is true,
they leave a little hole in you.
But every sunset has to fall
so morning light can visit all.
She's not crying, not today,
she's just learning how to say
that letting go can feel like flight,
like becoming free and light.
The grass beneath her feet is gold,
the story's ending, so I'm told.
But endings are just doors that close
before a better chapter shows.
So when you have to wave goodbye,
stand tall beneath that burning sky.
Remember how the sun goes down
but always comes back around.
Goodbyes are gifts we never want,
they show up when they shouldn't haunt.
But here's the secret, if you peek:
tomorrow's sun is what we seek.
