My Muse: The Sun

Why the sun travels with me I do not know,
Trying to hide from her prove futile each time
Yet I miss the warmth when it is dark and evening

The gold upon the clouds are her handiwork
The dust smeared greens are her art piece
The tree leaves fall gayly, quietly on the winds
As the seeds of trees fall ‘plum’ into the waters
Making the small fishes scatter in great confusion
And the glittering of flowing rivers show the suns talent

She works tirelessly to bring on the heat of life
Sucking up the cold and mists of the previous nights
Summoning the beetle, the flies, the bee and the adder

Now in my loneliness, I wonder why the sun went with me
And why when I hid she still sought to find me with her heat

By Oke Iroegbu

Finance Graduate, Bibliophile and Bard of Ovim, his hometown. Read more at