This one's from the archives, but may fit the bill:
DARBY TO JOAN
How peaceful is the eve's approach, my love —
the setting sun draws shades across the bay
as gulls inscribe their arcs of flight above
the homeward yachts erupting through the spray.
Along the beach, the young folk still at play
cavort and frolic through the waves, and there
a young Adonis stands as though the day
is his, proud pecs and biceps bronzed and bare.
A sudden rapture lights your eye, my dear.
Reflection from the sun's departing ray?
A mirrored glory as the night draws near
and marshals its empyreal display?
The dawn of inner peace?
x________________xOr is it just
the candle's gasp—a last hurrah of lust?
oOOo
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