Sun
When you hear people speak of the sky,
Whether with a sigh or a cry,
They speak of the same beautiful sight,
The colors and sounds of burning daylight.
The sun rolls ‘round in it’s enchanting hue,
Of autumn golds at it shines on morning’s dew.
It dances and drips on the darkness of day,
With light so bright, I wish it would stay.
Copyright © S. Grace | Year Posted 2017
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