Sunday Sun

The sun sits in the sky, on the horizon, burning its heart out with a longing to warm the Earth. My eyes burn every time they catch the bright rays. The ground, the snow, the trees, and the air around all refuse the warmth. They sit frozen in white, coldly mocking time.

My eyes are the only ones that willingly accept. My eyes are open to the beauty of the sky and the many colors it holds.

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