The Sun

The golden glow,
From heaven on high.
Watching over us,
It reigns the sky.

Lighting our way,
It never tires.
Deep from within,
Burns endless fires.

When we think it’s gone,
It returns once more,
Again and again,
Like an open door.

Occasionally clouds,
Cover over it.
And every night,
Disappears for a bit.

But appears again,
The very next day,
To guide our paths,
To light the way.