In the hush before the sun awakes,
The sky wears a cloak of silken dreams,
Soft whispers of dawn gently break,
Painting the world in golden beams.
The birds begin their tender song,
Serenading the waking earth,
A melody where hopes belong,
In the gentle cradle of rebirth.
Dew-kissed petals greet the light,
With a shimmer of morning grace,
As shadows yield to the bright,
And nightâs whispers slowly erase.
The world is renewed in morningâs glow,
A canvas wide and pure,
Where dreams and hopes gently flow,
In the promise of a day assured.