Mediterranean flowers perfumed the air.
The morning sun rising showed little care,
for the dew on the grass that it ushered away.
Another bliss morning for another bliss day.
The sound of the sea gently kissing the shore.
I love where I came from, but I needed this more.
High wispy clouds said hello to the sun,
then melted away until there were none.
Gold coloured sand ran down to the sea,
and played with the ripples, tumbling free.
A lone little dog with no hesitation,
went bounding on in through the wave’s susurration.
I sat on the wall, I could sit here for life.
Away from the stresses devoid of all strife.
But soon I must leave and return to the grind.
With a tear in my eye I’ll leave all this behind.

Sun showers, as it shines, the rain pours

As if the beating sun cries for all it has scorched throughout the day
As if this small show of cooling is its atonement for the damaged cracked skin across your shoulders
The cooling water slides down your back, leaving a trail of humidity in its path
The guilt it feels suffocates you with the moisture in the air swirling with the defening heat like a blanket wrapped around your throat
You claw your face
But its inside you, seeping in you, seeking your sanity
It whispers why is it my fault, all I do is work every day, shining on the planet, creating life, you know without me you wouldn't have ever been born, I gave you life
And you know it's true but it doesn't quell the fact your body is red, peeling, in agony from its intensity,

But it whispers its only for a season... for it will get cold and how you will kiss the ground hoping for those warm rays...

Boats
on the horizon.
The sun
is painting the vessels
in the colour of

longing.

I sat by the fountain,
watching the sun play out
the last moments of summer
in the company of young and old,
each of us attracted to its laughter.

And a voice spoke out
of a corner of this retreated peace

"It's the end of something.
At least the start
of something ending.
It's the end of many things
that you've grown accustomed to,
that have grown around you
and within you - rooted.
And so you may wonder -
- will the roots simply die from neglect?
(Has that dying already begun
from past neglect? Discuss.)
Or will you have to find the will
to uproot them?
- will the pain be worth the excavation?
- will the freeing of them better free you?
Or will you one day be grateful
for the remains of what was?

"So, for now, carry the remains.
Carry the scars and the stains.
Walk with confidence through this ending."

I listened to the voice in the quiet.
And sat with the fountain a while longer.
Knowing I'll find the decision sooner
or later. For tomorrow, it was September.

You burn with pride, a blazing crown,
And cast your glory halfway down.
You offer me a borrowed gleam,
To wear your light, to live your dream.

They call it love, that golden gleam,
But I am tired of your dream.
For what is love if I must be
A paler shape that mimics thee?

You rise and all the world takes note;
They write you songs, they learn by rote.
But me? They only praise my face
When I am bathed in your embrace.

I’ve played that role, taking on your fire,
But I am no echo of your bold desire.
It’s this, I’d rather not be bright
If I must steal another’s light.

Let others ache to share your flame,
To chase your warmth, to speak your name,
But none of them see what is true:
That all I am is made from you.

So keep your gold. I’ll take the gray.
I want to dim, to drift, and to decay.
To be myself alone, though small and plain.
A hollow stone, without your chain.

Let planets spin around your throne,
But I would rather be unknown.
Do not shine for me, bright one.
I want no light that comes from sun.

i obsess over you
you are the sun
in my eyes
I go blind
as you rise
what loathed sweetness,
you are fine silver
of the dagger
in my chest
gleaming whilst I stagger
what a joyous agony!