The lights are blinking — red and green and yellow and blue and orange — from reflections on new snow. And once they were candles, rows and rows, to call back the sun.
Here I am, the sun cries behind clouds and snow and wind and smog and car exhaust.
Here I am, I haven’t changed, you’re still dancing around me, you’ll dance around me forever…
Inside the house the family speaks of babies growin up to conquer death.
Here I am, says the sun, someday I will burn out, but not before you and your endless dancing. I won’t leave you. I am here.