He is gentle and he is kind,
a golden boy—
he was like light,
refreshingly coy.

When he smiled,
it was seductively innocent.
He was everything,
for a while.
But—
he was never magnificent.

He never illuminated
like morning rays.
But in misted evenings,
he led you in a haze,
reeled you in at night,
and held you in his grace.
But—
he never,
kept you in one place.

He was cunningly alluring,
like the mystery
of the dawn.
But when the moment
is undone,
you realize—
he was never the sun.