Hazy Recollection of the Sun

Lazy and slow the sun lies in the sky
illuminating the neighborhood,
the only way it can at noon.
Golden rays spill upon the earth
the omniscient beams spy on my childhood loneliness
With arms of an impatient mother,
the sun urges children away from television
and into my yard.

The sticky smell of honeysuckles,
and the bitter fruit from the cherry tree
prove to be sweeter shared with my new companions.

The setting of the sun is our clock.
Time passes in the form of freeze tag
and rough bark beneath our hands.
Afternoon sunlight falls into
hazy stains of orange and yellow.

The promise of tomorrow
pulls the children back to their homes.
The sun drifts from the sky and dusk is upon me.
With the coaxing of music,
the yellow-sweet sound of laughter,
and the greatest picture of childhood unity,
the sun rises once more at dawn.

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