Sunlight creeps through the sky,
like poison overtaking its victim.
The moon begins to seemingly dissipate,
through the phase of night to day.
The dawn's coming bring shades of purple blue to the grass on the plains,
and the frost begins to disappear.
From the goldenrod skies comes the morning dew,
refreshing the throat of the roots in their grounds.
Flowers splash open in a vary of exotic colors and forms!
---and the petals oh so bright!
Captivational petals of red shade so pure,
their beauty is boasted throughout the day,
but ends when the moon draws high.
The trees shake off the glistening snow,
leaving piles of trouble before their roots.
The slow morning sun rises,
becoming a spectacle wondered by God,
but dies soon enough,
as blades of darkened starlight cut into its yellowed form.
When the night sweeps over,
the trouble begins,
and expands over the sky like long tendrils choking the life out of the sun.
the force it down under the waters,
and drown its beauty in a watery grave.
The sun does rise again though,
and reoccurs each and every day.
The annihilation,
the devestation,
and each and every day,
flowers will bloom,
but the frosty moon's gaze will kill them all.
Again,
and again,
and again.
