Cheeks reddened from the morning air,
Eyes watering with the wind,
Hands longing warmth enough to share,
But shyness kept within.
The air still seems so sleepy,
The heavens are yet to wake,
Darkness falters; dying,
Falling in front of daybreak.
Dawn is seldom dreary,
Unlike my early drowsy mind,
The blue sky is now gilded,
With the sunlight it could find.
And streaks of pink accentuate,
The awakening atmosphere,
Like water poured over drying ice,
The morning is now clear.
