Whispers of light

Beneath a quilt of silver-gray,

The sunrays bide their time,

In secret nooks, they softly play,

Crafting light's gentle rhyme.

 

They whisper through the morning mist,

A promise yet unseen,

In every shadow, they persist,

With a golden, hopeful sheen.

 

Then, with a sudden, joyous leap,

They burst from their cocoon,

A gift of light, a secret keep,

Unveiled by afternoon.

 

The world awakens, bathed in gold,

A treasure from the skies,

Sunrays, once hidden, now unfold,

Their warmth, a sweet surprise.

 

Lost

Done