The Sun

The sun came up as it has since time begun
painting sky and earth in its glorious colours,.
Bewitched I stood there and for a while,
only did exist.

Looking down at my beloved Hibiscus
I told it that I felt sorrow too,
as its budding glories might not bloom;
Autumn was here and quite cold.

So the seasons go and we can but
follow their eternal song,
From spring, summer, autumn and snow.
Learning to embrace and be part.

Yet, the sun will always rise
Sometimes high and at times low,

As we greet this warming globe
Let us rejoice, not moan.

©miriam ivarson