When The Sun Retires

She’s looking for colours in the dark:

She’s looking for red as the blood from a gun,

The chest of a robin, the song of a lark,

And here comes the sunrise but where is the sun?

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She’s looking for colour in the night,

She’s looking for yellow as rapeseed fields,

She’s looking for midsummer morning light

But the sun won’t be drawn and the sky will not yield.

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She’s looking for colour in the black:

She’s looking for turquoise as star-dappled waters,

But the sun has grown weary; took the long journey back

To the home of his fathers, to be with his daughters.

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She’s looking for colour in the night:

She’s looking for green as a peacock’s war-paint,

But the birds flew away to seek other sunlight,

And left us alone with the stars so faint.