Sunny

The night had just done it’s round

The moon had left for sleep

As the sun;

Old yet vibrant,

Peeps in through the wooden window

like a new lover, impatient to waiting

Slowly it walks, from the window to the mirror

For you it’s nothing but a mere firmament

Making it’s way through to your end

But even the sun gets lonely,

Even the sun gets cold sometimes,

In the wilderness of a lonesome sky

But you put it’s quest to end,

Babruptly dragging the curtain

Banging the door against it

Shutting it out from it’s quest to be seen

And action that saith thus “you’re not welcome here

I do only need thee when my loins drip liquid”.