sweet, soured, sweeter

The soft glow of the sun rising above,

Birds quietly singing their early song,

The scents of rose enclose us like a glove,

The sweetest memory will be lifelong.

As always, the passing time feels too wrong,

In a breath, the sun is dimmed already,

Overpowering sadness feels too strong,

Slow down; the burning sky holds us steady.

When the moths come out, we know we're ready,

We allow the darkness to approach us,

And expect nothing but the unsteady,

Because we have seen this before, and thus,

This part is a secret too large to tell,

It is gentle, they swear, so do not dwell.