The morning was serene
The type of morning
You wish for on a special day
for it could make death feel sweet

grass glisten like dew covered emeralds
Song birds singing hallelujah
The sun rising from slumber, hues of gold
A pulsing breeze; breath from the mother

Stupefied in want, something amiss
In perfect creation; glory on display
once fulfilling me; invigorating the soul
pleasure dulled by longing
**** you I thought

My joy, commanded by you  
Each stroke of the brush, lost on me
Without the artist

In every pretty thing I see your spirit
A world more exquisite, you created
All it’s beauty; yours to dole
Bestowed through your presence, love