Fresh Air From The Age

This Person, This Sun

"This Person, This Sun."

A ray of sun hits my eye,
One of the last.
The orange sun seems huge,
Beaming at me, saying:
"The day is done, reflection is my weapon."

She sits next to me, oblivious,
Not feeling what I feel.
What I feel seems so strong it floats over my head as a dialogue bubble.
She doesn't see it-- me.

I remember again,
How I first met this person, this sun.
In a flurry of people, aimless and shiftless,
She exploded forth, words shining.

She was always at the back of my mind,
Always someone to think about when the day was done.
But I noticed this,
And she moved to the front,
Always present now.

posted by Gary @ 11/07/2006 01:27:00 AM