Again he comes,
the morning sun,
sinks his fevered arms,
deep inside your soul.

Still, you offer
nothing in return;
not a wave,
not even a ripple.

A smug wind
puffs its cheeks
in joy.

Pic Courtesy: Hemanth Shanthigrama

13/05/2015 Linked to Poets United

27 thoughts on “Again

  1. Interesting that the wind is smug and joyful at the same time–as if anyone could be loyal to wind when sun calls! The sun is so mighty! I would ripple. I would wave. Haha! Neat poem.


  2. Reliability is a wonderful attribute and the sun certainly can teach us about that. Lovely poem reminding me to enjoy my mornings and greet the sun.


  3. This made me smile. I almost danced with the wind myself! And perhaps the warmth of the sun is best greeted with a luxuriating, quiescent acceptance?


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