Poem About Sun Rise
Oh, bucolic pastorale,
Dawn brings a carnival,
Golden-pink, sunrise hues,
What a wonder for our view,
Dawn draws back her veil,
Night vanishes, sunlight's grail,
Our skies aflame,
End nocturnal games,
Oh, bucolic pastorale,
Dawn brings her carnival.
The first orange hued rays of sunrise kissed the still dust laden rubble with the same loving care as the undertaker with the recently departed. These soft rays that should have brought warmth to a new day only acted to solidify the reality of their losses. In the dark they had only the smell of the bombs and the fires to contend with, but under the radiating glow of the clouded sky there was no hiding. Aliana wished with all her might that it would sink back down below the horizon so they could have more time to grieve and process their abrupt change in fortune, but you can't argue with the sun.
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