I wait for the sun to rise—
a quiet ritual I never outgrow.
Even when my eyes ache
and my thoughts unravel,
I remain here, patient for my daylight.

The night is lonely, the dark unkind,
yet I choose to stay
until the first drop of morning touches me.
For waiting is for souls who cherish
what lies beyond the horizon
and who trust that even in an unfair world,
the light will return.

Sunup

She came one morn in a pool of red, rising in the east
And she left that day in a pool of red, west-bound, daylight’s priest
So I looked upon her cooler side that lay on sheets of black
Waiting for her graceful form to usher daylight back.