The sun on the dinning table

Why the sun melted like cheese?

On the dinning table,

I looked for wine of fine taste,

And music that came out from my soul,

You remained a companion, between me and the burning candles.

My only ticket to the Opera House.

When the sky erupted in downpour

I sensed its rhythm with ease,

Having had a past and few paces to the future,

From one passing moment to the new year,

The world appeared to me in crimson and white,

When the sun was bright.

Till evening eloped to bring in the night,

And the sun melted like cheese,

The candles burnt out and I was alone,

Not for a minute, not for an hour but an eternal wait for centuries,

For the sun to be served in splendor and galore,

And the story to be heard, lauded and placed in the archive of folklore!