The Writer And The Sun
The Writer And The Sun poem stories
  30
  •  
  0
  •   6 comments
Share

kgirl
kgirl “In a place where fantasy meets reality”
Autoplay OFF   •   a month ago
You - the writer of your own story -, you know you can only go on if you start making light for yourself thorough your own journey. That’s what you need to learn, what you got to do.

(Greatly inspired by real-life situations, which means the overwhelmingly hot summer weather here in Italy and my mum’s passion for sunflowers. The poem is about growing up and living our own summer at our fullest, which is possible when, remembering those who love us the most, we trying start living by becoming independent.)

The Writer And The Sun

Sweaty palms,

Sweaty palms, Ink on your warm hands,

Sweaty palms, Ink on your warm hands, The last page of your story

Sweaty palms, Ink on your warm hands, The last page of your story Still glued to them;

Sweaty palms, Ink on your warm hands, The last page of your story Still glued to them; As

Sweaty palms, Ink on your warm hands, The last page of your story Still glued to them; As if

Sweaty palms, Ink on your warm hands, The last page of your story Still glued to them; As if it

Sweaty palms, Ink on your warm hands, The last page of your story Still glued to them; As if it were

Sweaty palms, Ink on your warm hands, The last page of your story Still glued to them; As if it were A bee

Sweaty palms, Ink on your warm hands, The last page of your story Still glued to them; As if it were A bee too intrigued

Sweaty palms, Ink on your warm hands, The last page of your story Still glued to them; As if it were A bee too intrigued By a newly

Sweaty palms, Ink on your warm hands, The last page of your story Still glued to them; As if it were A bee too intrigued By a newly blossomed

Sweaty palms, Ink on your warm hands, The last page of your story Still glued to them; As if it were A bee too intrigued By a newly blossomed flower

Sweaty palms, Ink on your warm hands, The last page of your story Still glued to them; As if it were A bee too intrigued By a newly blossomed flower To ever want to fly away from it.

A sunflower,

A sunflower, you think —

A sunflower, you think — Sunflowers have always been your mum’s favorites;

Though personally,

Though personally, You see her more

Though personally, You see her more In the dazing sun

Though personally, You see her more In the dazing sun Now facing your way,

And in the evening facing the opposite,

And in the evening facing the opposite, To leave.

The sun —

The sun — Drug without which you would be completely blind...

Again,

Again, You had lost yourself in thought.

You tend to do that a lot,

You tend to do that a lot, When writing

You tend to do that a lot, When writing And now you smile,

You tend to do that a lot, When writing And now you smile, As you reckon that.

Now you’re back to writing;

Now you’re back to writing; Hair up — in a messy pony tail.

Now you’re back to writing; Hair up — in a messy pony tail. Enamored,

Now you’re back to writing; Hair up — in a messy pony tail. Enamored, The sun beams kiss you

Now you’re back to writing; Hair up — in a messy pony tail. Enamored, The sun beams kiss you And embrace you so tight

Now you’re back to writing; Hair up — in a messy pony tail. Enamored, The sun beams kiss you And embrace you so tight That they leave

Now you’re back to writing; Hair up — in a messy pony tail. Enamored, The sun beams kiss you And embrace you so tight That they leave the

Now you’re back to writing; Hair up — in a messy pony tail. Enamored, The sun beams kiss you And embrace you so tight That they leave the bruise

Now you’re back to writing; Hair up — in a messy pony tail. Enamored, The sun beams kiss you And embrace you so tight That they leave the bruise On your

Now you’re back to writing; Hair up — in a messy pony tail. Enamored, The sun beams kiss you And embrace you so tight That they leave the bruise On your white,

Now you’re back to writing; Hair up — in a messy pony tail. Enamored, The sun beams kiss you And embrace you so tight That they leave the bruise On your white, pale

Now you’re back to writing; Hair up — in a messy pony tail. Enamored, The sun beams kiss you And embrace you so tight That they leave the bruise On your white, pale skin.

It is so hot

It is so hot And at times,

It is so hot And at times, You feel like

It is so hot And at times, You feel like You can’t breathe

It is so hot And at times, You feel like You can’t breathe anymore,

It is so hot And at times, You feel like You can’t breathe anymore, But you close your eyes

It is so hot And at times, You feel like You can’t breathe anymore, But you close your eyes And feel the summer air;

It reminds you of your mother,

It reminds you of your mother, Of the sunflowers she loves so much,

It reminds you of your mother, Of the sunflowers she loves so much, Of the laughter and the games played so late at night,

It reminds you of your mother, Of the sunflowers she loves so much, Of the laughter and the games played so late at night, When everyone was already asleep

It reminds you of your mother, Of the sunflowers she loves so much, Of the laughter and the games played so late at night, When everyone was already asleep And only you two were up, Still tireless and more joyful than ever.

Now,

Now, resigned,

Now, resigned, the sun leaves its place to the moon.

You grew up

You grew up And the sun had to leave:

Mum’s smile is only a distant memory

Mum’s smile is only a distant memory Now that you parted ways.

A distant memory,

A distant memory, Yet still so vivid.

Dark is everywhere now,

Dark is everywhere now, Encircling you, restless,

Dark is everywhere now, Encircling you, restless, No sun to chase away the shadows creeping.

So you need

So you need To become your own sun

So you need To become your own sun And to make your own light;

For you will go through winter

For you will go through winter Only to live summer again.

Stories We Think You'll Love 💕

Get The App

App Store
COMMENTS (6)
SHOUTOUTS (0)