Pink like roses, the sun floats over. 

Its pearl halo unfolds like petals. 

Its coral bud reveals itself to onlookers. 

Its acute blaze is its thorns,

pricking the eyes at a visual touch. 

no

A heedless admirer stares at the sun.

The admirer stares hard. 

The admirer stares long.

The admirer parlays eyeless,

struck like Medusa’s victims. 

The admirer scrambles home, yawping. 

The solar blossom glares down. 

The solar blossom torches. 

The solar blossom flares,

acting as a muse and a monster.

However, the world forgets such things. 

They ignore the attack.

They ignore the blinded admirer. 

They ignore the pink sun, 

worshipping the mutable instead.

Pink like roses, the sun floats over. 

It tie-dyes against the lilac ether,

waiting to seduce another quarry.