The sun peaks it's
weary head over the still,
slumbering horizon,
the morning arrives
as trumpets of roosters
sing,
The morning will momentarily
grace us but easy come, easy go,
The breeze of morning breath
as flowers perk and
children wake,
parents rub the slumber
from their eyes and brace
for a day filled with
nonchalant chit chat that
makes the most eager of minds
weary,
The sun engulfs the day
before hiding again,
leaving the moon to
fend for itself