‘The sun’

I never lie on the floor after work.
Today, I did.
Two hours passed before I could convince myself to get up and shower. here's a poem about the sun

The sun,

The sun arrives without knocking.
It settles
on my knees, 

my hands,
the space beneath my eyes
I stay still.
Long enough 

for the light 

to forget 

where it ends 

and where I begin.

I let the sun rest on me, 

on my knees, 

my hands,
the space beneath my eyes...

Until sweat 

collects
at the edge of my spine.
Until my skin 

whispers,

enough.
I wonder
have I anything left 

to give the sun, 

or have l already 

given it
everything 

it came for?