Life of the Sun
The sun has peaked and at its highest
Here still I am without a clue to life even in the slightest
This window, fogged, scratched, and tattered
Tinted black, without a chance to flee from its fetters
—drained and frittered, have I left it to become so?
Pressing my face against,
I await and welcome only its bitter talons.
So neglected and betrayed,
It is near surprise why warmth met me in auld lang syne.
Window dearest, have you come to show me your clearest?—
The sun has just risen , the clouds have not clouded
There goes that child with smiles and dreams that have yet to be flooded
She skipped, walked, ran—never once turning back
At every step, towers of trees began their beseige
—even still as they waltz with the invisible man at its own whistle,
The sun has moved—her time has struck to match mine.
I could feel the change in her smiles,
The sting of defeat sours the tips of my tongue.
As I pressed my face harder,
The warmth I felt I hear is icy in its crackling.
My view is dimming of her, the trees are suffocating her
I had always done my best in looking away and regretting later,
But she turned around and smiled through her side that is far much clearer.
She owned my face, but it can’t be me.
She was the past, the beginning, a smile of dreams.
I’m half my end and long have forgotten
Those dreams she’s kept that hold my chances
I’ve thought only in seams
Tick. The sun is passing.
In the shadowed window, now the unknown residing.
I can no longer glimpse further, but could only thank
For without this window,
—I would have left
The girl I was,
The dreams I’ve longed to see.
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