Depending on your location, it may not be a sunset.

My nostalgia is wistful
Happy memory hurt the backs of my eyes, wincing.  I'm watching
a sunset over the rooftop from the fourth floor in the industrial desert
that I can only have now, and that I love. 
A sunset is never meant to be held, that is the point of a
sunset of life, eyes twinkling, remembering happy time,
who understands unless they are there? 
Screened window, hope, looking over a parking lot
fourth-floor I watch a sunset, and promise to

remember it happily, I will!

and the orange is stronger, strengthening like rewindind a cassette

that can play in the background, the sun

coming up again, holding the old happy times
a finger up the side of a glass, dripping with light
suspended in the sky
shining the wist out

of happy eye reflections.

-Citron