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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=358361" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sun</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sun is a woman made of clay.<br>She stands above the mountain- tops<br>Against a red velvet sky at dawn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Her skin tone, earthy-hued, radiates from afar.<br>Though chipped around the edges, she is still my friend.<br>Nothing or no one can be flawless; <br>Her smile is crooked, but sweet, <br>And her eyes, when wide open, are always filled with awe, wonder and surprise, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A woman molded from clay<br>Has skin tone- mahogany hued.<br>Chipped around the edges, <br>She is rugged, forever fighting through dense fog at dawn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When days and nights are dreary, <br>I cast my eyes about the sky<br>I search for the sun, that awesome woman, made of clay</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Her warm earth tones are calming<br>And the joy that she exudes is always comforting.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is when the full moon rises that I lose my grounds, <br>And hear spoken words that others do not hear.<br>Sometimes- I see horrific sights that others do not see.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">While the white of the moon is stark, <br>The sun’s earth tones are not garish.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I wander outward, daily, <br>And search for this clay-toned woman<br>Who is called “The Sun”<br>She smiles her crooked smile at me, <br>In thanks that I am her worshipper.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Forever, my friend, the sun will not be as fickle as the moon, <br>Waxing and waning past midnight<br>Bringing out in me thoughts that are not truly real.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the darkness, I run from all.<br>I live in fear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I live in fear, <br>But when the sun looks down upon me with her loving eyes, <br>And when that same crooked smile appears upon her face-<br>I am so enticed with her pulchritude-<br>Those disturbing thoughts are just whisked away<br>Within the early April morning’s breeze.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Claudia+Krizay">Claudia Krizay</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=358361" data-title="Sun de Claudia Krizay" data-description="The sun is a woman made of clay.
She stands above the mountain- tops
Against a red velvet sky at dawn.

Her skin tone, earthy-hued, radiates from afar.
Though chipped around the edges, she is still my friend.
Nothing or no one can be flawless; 
He..."></div>
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