Sunshine

So far yet so powerful.

That glistening, glowing orbit of light.

 

I sit, I wish, I wait, 

for the temporary burn of the stinging rays 

to penetrate my pasty-skin, only for them to be tainted by the harshness

of the winter air.

 

Burn, burn, burning.

They blister and burst, 

but it's hard being angry, 

for that balding bright sun, 

she doesn't mean to hurt.

 

Beach days, cocktails, golden sand between your toes.

Picnics, surfboards, and ice cream that melts down the cone

— all the things she offers.

 

She is great. 

She is gold.

She is power.

 

We take her for granted, 

waiting for the days of heated blankets and fluffy pj's.

Hot chocolate in biting weather.

We wait for the slushy blanket of snow to fall whilst Jack Frost nibbles away at our toes.

Is this what humankind craves the most?

 

Not the light from the sky,

but shadows and cold which takes over the night.

Not the sun in all her glory,

but darkness, winter air and nothing at all gaudy.

 

She sits high up there.

Waiting, waiting, waiting for the summer delight,

without winter to overshadow the light.