Mark of the Sun

Caught in the mirror, a stark line glows bright,

a reminder of summer, of long, lazy light.

Basking on patios, moments slipped by,

yet here on my shoulder, the sun left its cry.

Tan arms, pale shoulder, a story unspun,

speaking of warmth and the days just begun.

I trace it with fingers, this mark of the sun,

a testament fragile, of time spent in fun.