This ‘mourning’ was the first summer’s day,
The sun awoken - awakened, but unlike yesterday it’s weakened,
Its glow usually vivid but now it flickers and mercifully fades.
Albeit the season whereby the sun rises and ever lasts, even in late evening whereby the sun’s shadow is always cast. Today is summer, but today is very different to those of summers past.
Unable to wake, unable to rise - not a cloud to be seen, just a vacant sky. There will be no more autumns, nor a spring in your step - and you have experienced your last winter of discontent, season of regret.
The light of your sun radiates here on earth no more, but lest we not forget, the sun is one of many stars, so albeit one now rests in darkness, one rests amongst many stars.
Copyright © Secret Poet