Thou torch rousing the day at dawn,
Crossing land and sea above so high.
Knowing in measure to take leave
When the moon, your friend, is nigh.
When melancholy besets us below,
Warm rays bathe a path for thought.
To ponder things, great and small,
Of forging plans of good, or not.
Long, short shadows follow close,
Ignored reminders of your presence,
Quiet things of fun, beauty, to quell
The importance of flowers, sustenance.
The hours of light subside to dusk,
We bid you a tired goodbye
Until another morn, perhaps,
To see your ever-shining eye.
Copyright © 2013 Shainbird. All rights reserved.