The Sun Is Gone Too Soon

The Sun is gone too soon,

On my last night in Hawaii.

The clouds hang heavy,

With undropped tears,

And mourn the end

Of a dance of mist and fire

That was doomed to fade

Into moonlit grey regret

Against a spectral dust-ramped sky

Of scattered light.


The crescent moon glides content

On burnt-azure cloud-wrapped tides

As the water caresses my feet

Like a forgotten lover,

Once met but never known again.


When young I thought to catch the sun and moon,

And clouds and trees besides,

As a backdrop for a world of light

To fill with tales of love and hope,

And leave my mark, indelible,

In the fond recall of a child's happy dream.


The show, splendid without me,

Told tales that I did not care to know,

Towered high with wit, then money,

Became banal, as all things do,

And lost its way, as I did,

Ending on a beach like this.


It's not too bad,

I must confess,

Except for wasted thoughts

Of what might have been.


The world has turned a page,

And so should I.

Thrown back to only words this time,

I try my magic trick again.


The afterglow is golden brown,

The moon pillowed in a ruffled bed,

The waves are hissing silver snakes,

Slithering to shore,

Their roaring spent, for now,

Like some lazy lion.


The palm trees crisp in silhouette

Slash jagged feather duster holes

Proud they are still there,

Despite the gales and rain.


The boat lights shimmer and twinkle

In a pool of hammered copper,

A perfect painter's splash of

Beauty staving off disaster.


Like everyone I gawk and click,

Relegating a moment that's too intense to hold,

To electronic memory.


As I twist from left to right,

And feel my aging back,

The iPhone says I should move more slowly,

When I make a panorama.


Twenty years too late, perhaps,

But good advice,

As the sunset fades to night.

© 2017 Gavin Miller. All rights reserved.