Sometimes the love is harsh, it's the sun's love. But I'd rather wave my arms a little more mellow, look the giver in the eye, than to droop my eyes down lower to the ground. Sweet sweet mother earth, she holds me and yet I must pay my homage to the colour I see on my skin. /caption/ Prompt by APM. From a sunflower to a rainbow. The dawn washes over me, the youth of the day leaves its sweet spell spilt all on my face, spiraling into my core, through to my very roots. Sometimes the love is harsh, it's the sun's love. But I'd rather wave my arms a little more mellow, look the giver in the eye, than to droop my eyes down lower to the ground. Sweet sweet mother earth, she holds me and yet I must pay my homage to the colour I see on my skin. I tell you all of this because you remind of the mildness the Sun is capable of, all the love it holds in its bosom sheathed behind and with, all of the skin-grazing fire. You remind me of the colours I wake up to and I dream of when the moon takes precedence.
