The Sun Rising

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And with heart on my sleeve
I breathe on beneath austere moon,
watch as peonies close at night.

Did you know it would come to this
a poem, a glance, and lasting kiss
how’s it that everything has changed
 and yet nothing is different–

There is no other softer pain
remember love doesn’t let us write 
our own ticket, and that woe is ours
until we learn to forget.

From midnight to slow rising sun,
I cup my hands around wistful mug
knowing that if I had to I would
do it all over again.


Photo credits: Pinterest

Posted on Fireblossom Fridays @ Real Toads

18 Replies to “The Sun Rising”

  1. love doesn’t let us write
    our own ticket

    This is sooo true, Sanaa. You ask the essential question in this poem: Did you know it would come to this? Truth be told, the answer is always no. The god of love is blindfolded.

  2. Love is not a ticket really… only the leaving as that old Beatles song… She’s got a ticket to ride

    She said that living with me
    Is bringing her down yeah.
    For she would never be free
    When I was around.

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