Infant day is born as the sun rises,
Up and up wards reaching out,
Slowly nature awakens from dark slumber,
Dull orange clouds metamorphose to white,
The day's torch escapes from it's cell,
Adding shades of life with it's bright aura,
Day grows older with time,
Beckoning its's prisoner back to captivity,
Splashing bright red across the horizon,
Like a spherical sinking Titanic it goes under,
Disappearing with a dirty dull yellow,
Trees mourn as birds come to roost,
Sadly crying for the dead sun.
