Probably too early to call for you to come again,
minutes after your descent is prepared.
My unclouded mind trapped by cotton patches,
as your eyes flicker complete with eye lashes.
Oh - honey scent spill onto the canvass,
the copper cup shades the sky’s complexion.
Gently, my Sun, you kiss my skin to bronze,
illuminate my face with your radiance.
The wind is in a gentle mood.
Winter is about to arrive.
Autumn, the present paramount.
For my skull is the ground,
and the earth is my face.
Oh – rain for you to see my tears,
as I plough through the darkest of my fears,
Night!
You leave me for the horizon,
your partner of only late.
A predestined pair, foreseen for centuries by nature’s fate,
your edge of departure and return.
Leave!
But come back.
I will wait for you by the window,
My Sun.
« return.