In the tender arms of dawn’s embrace,
The sky blushes with a gentle grace.
Whispers of light dance on the dew,
Awakening dreams, both old and new.

A chorus of birds heralds the morn,
As shadows retreat, and day is born.
Golden hues paint the sleepy earth,
In the cradle of morning’s rebirth.

The world stirs with a quiet breath,
Casting aside the night’s gentle death.
Each moment a promise, fresh and bright,
Bathed in the warmth of morning’s light.

Hope unfurls with each waking breeze,
Carrying whispers through the trees.
In the morning’s tender, fleeting glow,
Endless possibilities begin to flow.