The sun
My shoulder painfully pinched.
My desire to Sleep it off,
outweighed my desire to walk it off.
The sun danced into the garden,
looking through my window.
She spoke in pale golden hues,
I Shall watch over you while you rest;
Then busied herself with poppy in languished conversation spread over my bedroom floor.
From my phone Mary Oliver recited her poems , she pulled me gentle into sleep .
Poppy and the sun , now
in quietude and I , in my soft nest of oblivion.
I wake cosy cradled in poetic residue,
a warmth , a breath of light.
In a short time she, the sun won us over;
The whole world went out to play,
basking in her presence .
For that was all we needed to remind us of our life worth living.
Later a fire of molten orange burned behind the black trees.
The sun left her colourful perfume behind,
I breathed in deeply.
The blackbird lovingly called after her,
Agreeing to meet at dawn.
Still she lingered on the horizon of our hearts.
For a long time after
he sang of his wild love for her;
She ,
Gently extended her fingers into dusk.