Behind the house the sun dips slowly down. I sit outside and gaze at the lengthening shade,
no chore or worry tugging at my sleeve.
I watch the garden’s brightness slowly fade –
a vivid patch of green still gleams beside
the garden fence, but soon the shadow’s tide
will dress it in a sombre evening gown.
Oh how I loved to play and bask and run
in parks and playgrounds in my younger days.
Heedless of heat and thirst and reddening skin,
I’d wallow in the scorching, noonday rays,
alive with youth’s indomitable might.
From time to time I still bathe in the light
that freely pours from bounteous Brother Sun.
My day draws on, but it is not yet done.
The house awaits. She seems to say, ‘My friend,
in time, without regret, you’ll come on in;
I’ll welcome you with love at your day’s end.
You have no need to think or do – just be.
I watch with you; I’m not your enemy.
You still have time for walking in the sun.’
