In the early chill of morn',
Minutes before the new day's born,
I wait and watch the eastern sky,
Eager to catch the new sunrise.
It comes up slowly and without a sound,
Growing larger and larger, that golden mound,
And soon it's full circle, so bright and round,
Into the sky it floats from the ground.
Spreading its light for the world to see,
That golden disk seems happy and free,
Playing games with clouds all the day through,
Tag, you're it and Peek-a-boo.
But after a while, it passes by overhead,
On its way home to settle down for bed,
But before the day ends, when the sun starts to set,
It paints in the sky--pink, orange, and red.
Then it touches the horizon and slowly sinks in,
A signal to all of the days end.
But do not be worried or troubled my friend,
Early tomorrow it starts over again.
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