There are times/ days
you come uninvited,
teasing me for my sleeping in
and turning up late.
At/ On others, too often of late,
I wait for you to show up,
staring unblinking
at the cold firmament.
A tad tired, a li'l lethargic
and a trace half-hearted if I may,
you sprinkle your warmth
across the skies these days.
Woken up you were as if
whilst still in a dream,
and put to the yoke
still half-asleep.
Unlike the most of my kind that have
become the ingrates ultimate,
the flower blooming for the first time,
the caterpillar giving way to the butterfly,
and all the drops of dew that have been
waiting for you, shivering through the night,
have heard stories of your life-giving rays
and tales of your crown lighting up the mornings.
For the short life they have
on this day, on this planet,
would you rise and shine
with all your might
And bestow your love like a lover
knowing it to be the last time
he will ever get to behold
the lover's mien
Oh, ball of blaze, glowing up in the sky,
would you not let,
the flower, the dew, the butterfly,
die without knowing
the power of love,
the might of waiting.
One that has been making you
rise past the horizons and mountains,
overlooking us humans
that don't deserve
an iota of your grace.
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