A poem by Isabelle Sorrells

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I yearn for it.

To bask in its warmth.

To close my eyes

And to turn my chin to the sky.

It covers me like a blanket,

Lulling me into a trance.

Filling my bones

With promises of light.

It kisses my skin

Turning it ever darker.

I have come to relish the sometimes

Burning sensation

It gives me.

I curse the wind on days like this,

Robbing me of moments of warmth

And prickling my skin.

I move away from the shadows

And crowd closely into the light.

With the warmth of the sun

I am content.

–

I can only hope I use it wisely,

And do not spend so much time in it

That is grows tired of me,

And curses my slowly darkening skin

With a different kind of burn.