Sunday, 17 June 2012

Waiting For Her Sun

The air sits still in the valley,
As the wind rushes past above,
Spots of rain begin to infest
Each of the slate flagstones.
The trees watch silently
The day passing by,
In this forever lonely
Grey pallor world.
Like the hours before the dawn,
Dark and deathly;
Where nothing seems to move,
Only the rain falling
In lethargic tear drops.

Crying out for the warm kiss of sun,
To feel her touch
Upon skin, earth, and everything
Blessed by her beauty:
Golden rays, brushing over the land
Like the long angel locks,
Falling from her crown,
Framing this world, mirroring
Her enigmatic face
That captures the heart
At the very first glance.
Clear the weeping rain from the step,
Running hands through golden hair;
Come sweet kissing sun.

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