Once-upon-a-time, a barman worshipped the Sun.

Worked nights so didn’t see much of it

but in his head he’d got stories of

the Fire God supreme,

Blaze Lord,

vanquishing monsters who'd eat out your dreams.

 

He called the Sun ‘Hero’,

believed it had six pairs of arms,

giant wings of flame

and the handsomest nose in the galaxy.

Made moons blush

and giggle their names.

 

His Sun was a Hero who rescued smiles

and fed them ideas 'til they were fat with luck.

Faster than a speeding comet,

could see around corners, rewrite destiny,

didn’t break promises,

could even rewire a star.

gave songs to orphans, faith to minstrels,

had the kind of hug you couldn’t touch

but kept

safe

underneath your skin.

 

Barman knew that Sun would come

one day,

teach him the Hero's Way.

He could be the Sun’s wise-cracking side kick.

Might even get his own light saber!

On long, lantern lit night shifts

washing drip trays,

watching drips

getting wasted,

Barman kept faith that Sun would come.

 

It didn’t break promises.

 

Hurrying home under a rejected moon

he’d hum a tune made from

downing flagons and flying dragons,

race to his flat door.

 

At 4am every day

he’d get ready for bed,

each time dreaming he’d just stay awake

long enough to see

Sun.