The sun spills gold on the gravel road,

A church bell rings, it pulls the load.

Cicadas hum, their ancient tune,

The morning's broken, just past June.

Morning has broken, the world takes its breath,

Shadows retreat from the night’s cold death.

Whispers of daylight, soft and unspoken,

Here comes the dawn, morning has broken.

Dew drops shimmer on blades of green,

A crow takes flight, sharp and keen.

The air feels heavy, sweet and slow,

The day begins, but where will it go?

Every second feels stretched and wide,

Like the earth itself has nothing to hide.

Morning has broken, the world takes its breath,

Shadows retreat from the night’s cold death.

Whispers of daylight, soft and unspoken,

Here comes the dawn, morning has broken.

Painted skies of orange and blue,

Each moment here feels born anew.

The horizon whispers, "Don’t look away,"

This fleeting gift will not stay.