He travels from the outerworld everyday,
Just to wake me up.
He paints the sky red every morning.
Just for me.
A romantic at heart he is.
We look into each other’s eyes all day
long.
Not a second does his gaze leave me.
Then dusk makes its annoying knock,
I sulk for he now needs to leave.
This you see is True Love
Boasted the sunflower to her friend
The Sun , my man, he is for life
And I am his girl till the end.
Time flew by.
At her funeral he was .
Like he had been there for her each day.
Died the sunflower ,a happy death,
Blissful ,Content, this way.
The sun came out the very next day,
Waking up all beings.
Basking in the warmth of his love
Were mountains,flowers and streams.
To each of them it seemed as though,
Their man was here again.
From outer world, painting the skies
For none other, just them.
The sun ,an artist , performed his bit
Romancing none but fame.
Obsessed
with his work, he found,
The stream and sunflower the same.
The earth was his audience.
Not enemy , not friend.
He belonged to his Art alone
