by- Matthew F. Blowers III

Basking In the Comfort

of An Old Friend.

The sun has always been there,

it warmed my toddler flesh

fresh in the dawn of my life,

when adrenaline coursed through

my veins, as I danced

exuberant in bright meadows.

It brightened my first kiss,

that awkward bumbling attempt

with a red-haired girl

whose lips were even hotter.

It burned like a torch,

when I cremated my mother,

slipping beneath the clouds,

almost in a sign of respect

as I left with her ashes.

It melts my winters

into crocuses, across

the art palette of my earth,

and the artist in me smiles,

as it brushes my shoulders

Soon it will soothe

my arthritic limbs,

like some heavenly sauna.

as I sit, rocking and gazing

at the dust motes,

dancing like the toddler

I once was,,

in the warm beams

of its gleams.

When it cast long

shadows over my

headstone, my bones will settle

with much regret at it's absence