Still Not The Sun

On days like this the sun may never shine
But it's less crucial than it used to be;
I used to think the daylight was all mine
And night belonged to others utterly;
As such, dark days seemed terrible to me:
Washed out weak sunbeams threatened who I was,
And grey clouds covered what should probably
Have seemed sufficient sunlight with a fuzz,
As freezer mold the ancient orange does,
And blocked my joy by making it seem night
To my demanding eyes. Now I find, because
Your love has made my nighttime fill with light,
I can walk happily through darkened skies
Cheered with the recollection of your eyes.