I long for
The Winter Solstice-
Where around here,
There's eighteen hours
Of night.

Only to be ruined,
By morning's dawning
Light.

What you find-
Beautiful-
I find
Derivative
And easy.

No one did anything
Great,
Praising the sun-
And,
Beauty.

I only love things,
When your things,
Recede
Into my quiet moments,
Without you.