Morning Hues
The first stroke on the white canvas
A scarlet red ribbon cast
From a blob of holy red
Onto the landscape
Serene and untouched
Against the backdrop
Of the virgin sky
The bright hue slowly bleeds
Into the satin fabric of the sky
A plum and peach pattern
The color of the Cupid's cheeks
And like from a painter's pallet
Splattered on a careless jolt
A vat of gold
Spills over the emerald hills
The sunrays bounce off
In a prismatic display
Of Nature's perfection
From the glass curtains
Of the waterfall
The earth shimmers
Bathed in the choicest hues
From the twist of a kaleidoscope
And a new day awaits
Sketched perfectly
With the first signs of hope...
The first stroke on the white canvas
A scarlet red ribbon cast
From a blob of holy red
Onto the landscape
Serene and untouched
Against the backdrop
Of the virgin sky
The bright hue slowly bleeds
Into the satin fabric of the sky
A plum and peach pattern
The color of the Cupid's cheeks
And like from a painter's pallet
Splattered on a careless jolt
A vat of gold
Spills over the emerald hills
The sunrays bounce off
In a prismatic display
Of Nature's perfection
From the glass curtains
Of the waterfall
The earth shimmers
Bathed in the choicest hues
From the twist of a kaleidoscope
And a new day awaits
Sketched perfectly
With the first signs of hope...
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