The morning sky burns bright golden.
Such a sight to be beholden;
soft white clouds that sail new blue
are under laid with pinkish hue
and the robins breast is swollen.
Beneath feet, red leaves have fallen
onto the rustling gold of autumn;
above, wing lit seagulls weave through
the morning sky.
This feast does the heart embolden
to find darkness has not stolen
eyes that still can see it's true;
a new dawn brings hope into view
as the rising sun breaks open
the morning sky.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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Morning sky burns bright golden as the rising sun breaks up on. Very beautifully presented meaningful poem. Nice.