Sunbeams
Stretching overhead.
They reach in and tap the shoulder
Of the child still in bed
Arising from darkness
Awaking from slumber
The sweet aroma of dew invades the senses
Unknowing, willing, a higher counted number
Reaching a high point
Scorching and singeing the soul
Running, playing, suffering, dieing
The heart always somehow pays the toll
Hot harsh not greedy
Sensual glamour
The sun claims it all
Not boisterously, with no clamor
Falling, lying down
Laying its children back down,
She slowly disappears,
With a slight frown
Colors blending, mixing,
A piercing of the heart
Fading into crimson and deep blue
The usual sweet fruit taste of tang and tart.
