I want to put the sun to bed,
And wake him up each day.
I want to stroke each of his beams,
And tell him it’s okay. .
It must be hard to be a start
About which no one seems to care;
No one seems to thank the sun,
Even though he’s always there.
Perhaps the sun really is just gas,
And can’t hear whatever we say,
But I once gave him a grin and like to think
That he shone a little brighter that day.