Monday, 5 March 2012

Poem: Last Sunset?

I sat and watched a sunset, the red and orange
And pink and… It covered me. It hurt my eyes.
I think I even enjoyed it, despite the blindness.
But it occurred to me; what if this were my last one?
I worried about whether it was the best I’d ever seen.
I worried about missing out on better.

I worried about worrying about sunsets
Because weren’t sunrises just as important?
So I vowed to see each one right at its conception.
I set my alarm and stumbled from my warm bed
Just to see the sun turning up for a day’s work.
Just to see the day turning on.

And then I’d wait all day to see it turning off again.
And I thought, it’s just a giant light switch and I was
Getting tired and bored and wondering who stares at a light?
Each time it wasn’t my last I became a little less
The sun set and it rose and I was still here.
The sun set and it rose and I wasn’t dead.

So I stopped setting the alarm, and I stopped watching
The sun do its thing. Because it was going to do it
Whether I saw or not. Maybe that’s the thing I was
Supposed to realise. In the end it doesn’t matter
If you see the sunrise for the last time,
If you see the sun set no more – you’ll never know.

©Lisamarie Lamb 2012 


  1. Hmmm? Very interesting, Lisamarie. I've read it twice now. That's the thing about poetry. It speaks differently to all of us, depending upon our mood and ability to receive it's message. I think I'm going to have to let this one work in me for a while, like a fine wine upon the tongue...


    1. Hi Jimmy - I'm glad it made you think. I agree with you that poetry can change with each reading... I hope this vintage ends up being a good one!