Call Me The Sun

Call me the sun,
The world-weary,
Half-trodden, sinking
In the fringes of an
Outwear, the almost
Dying light on the gray
Pavement at day's
Closing; who thinks
A thought of you,
Begins to rise,
Bright orange,
Quickening,
Soaring high above
Blaring horns and
The sky-rise.
Call me the sun,
That the moon and
The pedestrian,
Upon seeing me,
Will think another
Day has begun.




april 24
© 2007 mei-xiu