Poetry

Sunshine

21 May 2018

They call her sunshine
even when she’s not in yellow,
Holding doors open for
people, hoping they’ll open too
and embrace her,
Talk to her, thank her.

But she stands still, silent.
Watching as
everyone moves around her,
Like tiny planets.
Their energy letting them hum
and dance in circles with each other
whilst she waits
watching
warming
without welcome or
arms to wrap around her
to keep just for her
even the slightest ray of sunlight.


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