A Pome

To the Sun

Perhaps we shall meet soon
Some rather quiet afternoon
On the street where I live and love
Shaded by the mighty oaks above.

Perhaps the sky will blush
With that heady pink rush
Which only you can bring
With your promise of spring.

Perhaps the grass will wake
And out of its green gloom make
A carpet for me and mine
Scented with dew and pine

Then again, you may decide not to show -
In which case, you ought to know,
You are our sun, our only sun
For all our tomorrows come.