I’ve seen a setting sun.
A sun so bright, I want to run.
Because no one chases the moon.
It always leaves too soon.
I’ve accepted what cannot be met.
A passing feeling of Summer sweat.
That gentle breeze that comes from spring.
A feeling of birth after winter leaves.
It seems to be a circle, full circle.
A motion to release my pent up emotion.
And yet I shed a tear for what is lost.
I cannot place it, like a summer’s frost.
It’s a feeling that’s not meant to be.
A feeling I cannot lose inside of me.
But to truly move past myself.
I must confess I’ve lost myself.