sunshine mourning

the sunshine
peeks over my windowsill,
illuminates my sun
who shines beside me still,
and still as the grave
or something
somewhat less grave.
so murmur good morning
to my morning glory
as she sunshine rises,
and twists me in her vines,
kisses me with sweet petals,
as her tousled hair settles
and she shines,
and it blinds
the dark of mourning,
oh, glory.
let me read you again, love:
you have become
my favorite story.