Sunset

I liked staring, unblinking, into the setting sun
painting the mists of far, far-distant, endless sea.
Since I was but a little, lonesome, fearful boy
sunsets made me elusive, protected, strangely free.

I sat there looking at raging, insatiate orb of fire.
I––tiny, innocent, gazing at what might be…
Tomorrow? The day after? Perhaps even forever.
Beyond time and space, beyond the endless sea.

Now I am old and hunched, still gazing at the sunset.
No longer dreaming of future––still lonesome as can be.
I now dream of the past, of days left behind,
when I first sat here, alone, on the old, gnarled tree.

Poem by Stanislaw Kapuscinski (A.K.A Stan I.S. Law)
Sunset, bronze sculpture by Bozena Happach

1Sunset

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