The Sun is a fickle lover; she smiles at everyone.
Scrambling to woo her,
we trip over our bare legs
and skin our soft knees
until they bleed.
Winter found us weak and anxious,
but he hardened us, too.
We keep searching for Spring
(and the Sun he'll bring with him)
that Winter forced us to be strong.
Tossing our hearts to her aerial glow,
we plead with the Sun to stay, please stay,
and never leave us
But she is a consistently inconsistent flirt.
Haven't we learned to never fall in love
with her beams?
She'll turn you red and leave you white.
Scathing passion followed by months of death,
She'll come home, though.
She always runs back to us eventually.
And we'll be waiting for her
with our chins tipped upwards
and our scarred knees almost healed.
-Kimberly Pellegrini, March 28, 2013