From Dream to Enchantment

Sunday Morning emerged from her sleep, crisp and pristine, rising gracefully from the cold night. Whispering her song into my dreams, her voice coaxed me from silent slumber. The gentle singing drew me to my feet and I peeked out of my front window where I witnessed the artistic dance of a fresh dawn.

Sunday slipped from her robe of velvet indigo, revealing her fire-orange gown that spread across the maiden sky. I stood mesmerized by the heaven spun gold of her floating hair, watching it slip across the lawn, transforming the dull blades of grass into a lush green tapestry.

With tender brushstrokes she turned the frigid darkness into the warmth of light and then smiled as I stepped through the door and embraced the eloquence of a new day.