For the Love of Sol
Alluring, beckoning;
brushing each droplet with his tantalising golden touch.
Charmed by his searching warmth,
dewy debutantes
eagerly follow, rising effortlessly from a
field of naive dreams,
giving their virtue to his
heaven sent heat.
Innocence is lost, as
jewels of youth and inexperience,
kissed by his fiery passion,
levitate in brief rapture then disappear,
mourned only by carefree bare feet on a morning stroll.
Narcissistic, he admires his reflection,
over and over,
pearlescent on a gossamer haze of
quivering souls,
replaying the pleasure of a
selfish sacrifice
to satisfy his own thirst.
Unquestioned by nature,
victory is his alone, and though
whispering branches sing softly of
xanadu,
yesterday’s dew knows it never existed.
Zephyrs bring a cool twilight air, laden with tomorrow’s oblation.
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