Blushed Face
Flirting and flashing as time went around,
I saw his face — reddish, brown, and round.
Don’t you say he’s sick or hiding away;
Never I saw him sneeze through the day.
Perhaps he’s furious, burning with rage,
Consumed by heat in his fiery stage.
Or maybe he’s caught in a tender crush,
Turning his glow to the softest blush.
Once too shy to look on his golden face,
For I live beneath his humble grace.
But now I gaze deep into his red heart,
To know the one who’s playing his part.
At last, he sleeps through the quiet dark night,
To rise again in fresh yellow light.
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