Sunlight

Sunlight is pure, slipping like silk,

Her lips, the perused pages of a book.

Her eyes pierce through, pale as milk,

She renews my soul with a meaningful look.

On sweet summer days, where joy is bound,

She dances among glistening green glades.

When hearts are broken, let down, and found,

She s l i p s through the cracks in spades.

Her name is known, to all who breathe,

To those who dream of her at night.

And when nightmares come, jagged and mean,

She banishes them swiftly, masked by moonlight.

On the peaks of mountains, and dry desert floors,

Her smooth, singing voice can be heard.

To beguile, to calm, to anchor and moor,

Her songs are sung to be learned.

Sunlight is dear, is a clear breath of air,

Her blessings are gifts to revere.

With her golden eyes, and skin flush and fair,

Hark, merry maiden, and make all minds clear.