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The Sun Sang a Love Song While the Moon Whispered a Lullaby
Prose Poetry
The sun delights in the way it basks over its kingdom, never shining for longer than it has to do — but we walk free under the light.
Sunlight can burn, but it can also heal with its warmth. Snow would never melt without the sun’s merciless touch. If there is a god of the sun, then he surely wields a power that no one else can match.
We can wander for hours when the sun is ours, and we cradle the moments as if they too will flee at some point.
But the sun begins its descent until it’s just a line of fire on the horizon. Just one look, and our eyes sear with pain that feels heady yet absolute.
The sun’s love song is like the tear-away break from an old flame who always stays in the back of your mind no matter what you do.
Dusk is catching, cloaking us in blue-black shadows, while the moon climbs and climbs until it settles on the bank of the sunset sky.
But the moon is a merciful goddess, her touch cool and soft, her light a simple reflection that is nonetheless a beacon in the dark.
Sitting backin that light, we laugh till our heads feel dizzy. We can rest easy knowing that the night is keeping us close in her tender and loving care.
