Sonnet for Sunny

Though the heavens may cry with dawn,
or be it an absent cold,
here I sit beside the sun,
undeserving of its gracious gold.

Still shining as the brightest star
after being washed in smog-filled days.
Try to open your burning eyes
and see that I'm in love with thy face.

In distant-near whispers with a fellow fame
I could hear goddesses sing my name,
though a ponder on these would do a head of lies,
so I sit in secret sapphire with emerald eyes.

Though I play know-you-not, shine on me,
for you make my dark-cloud days, Sunny.