A warm sunbeam touches my face,
I tilt my head and squint at the sky.
I’d like to spread my arms and embrace
The passing day which is about to die.
...
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Beautiful, nostalgic grief. And yet the sun still shines somewhere just beyond the shadows. My applause for this one, Jolanta. Warmest regards, Sandra
A lovely poem, very well crafted and mournful in its way, steve
Very nice metaphor, I sometimes wish I could stop the sun from setting, but tomorrow is another day :)