Morning Whisper

 

The sun peeks in with golden grace, A gentle touch upon your face. The world, still quiet, holds its breath, Before the rush, before the depth. The birds compose a waking song, To say, “You’ve rested well and long.” A breeze slides past the open sill, With promises of calm and thrill.

The sky wears soft and sleepy hues, Still rinsed in night’s forgotten blues. But slowly, light begins to climb A rhythm set, a sacred time. So rise and stretch your arms out wide, Let dreams and doubt drift with the tide. Today is blank, a page to write, With peace, with purpose, and with light.

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