To an ageing sun

A poem I wrote last evening.

Alone on a small island,
gasping for air –
Buddhist whispers
softly fading.
A deep hurt,
and prayer of tears.
How long the day.

You should appear,
a beauty to see.
To fix, a cry of love
and summers
backward glance.
Fields and mountains,
wrapped in silk – only you
will sleep in my dreams.

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