The Sun Rose That Day Poem by Ember Hathaway

I was curled into a ball my head facing the window. The cold sent shivers down my spine. I pulled the blanket up to my chin, huddling for the little warmth from my body.

The sun rose that day. The brightness poured through the dirty window, filling my soul until I thought I would burst.
The sun rose that day.
A wild rainbow danced before me, pinks, blues, purples, greens, colors shimmering radiant from some not totally unknown magic.
The sun rose that day.
Warmth soaked through my skin and I threw off my blanket, hope flared, and basked in the light. The colors were like tiny sprites dancing around my room. Filling every shadow with light, and warmth.
The sun rose that day.
The colors swirled faster and faster around me. I was consumed by them. They made me so light inside.
The sun rose that day.
The bed left me, I drifted a foot above it, floating in the air. Nothing but colors.
Then I danced. I danced with them. I swirled, and twisted, leaped, and twirled. Soaring around just like the brilliant sprites. My hair flying in every way but it did not obscure my face.
For the sun rose that day.
I never tired of the dance and continued for all.
The first I saw the sun rise that day.
I was whole, filled, with everything around me, I was part of it. The colors swirl and I with them. Each separate yet as a whole. They, we, danced.
The sun rose that day.