The morning sun

A blush upon the eastern sky,

A gentle light begins to pry

The darkness from its inky hold,

A story yet to be told.

The morning sun, a sleepy eye,

Cracks open wide across the sky,

And paints the clouds in shades of gold,

A masterpiece, both brave and bold.

It wakes the birds with songs untold,

And kisses leaves with dewdrops cold,

A gentle heat begins to spread,

As slumbering things rise from their bed.

The world awakens, one by one,

Basking in the light of the morning sun,

A promise whispered, soft and low,

Of hope and life that starts to flow.