Pinks, Oranges and finally, The Blues

Every dawn is the same.

Just as it seems the night will deliver the killing blow, the dark, devouring night finally gives way to Day allows her light, whose presence, without fail, finds its way into the dark corners where I am cowering.

Her colours are expressive but unshakeable, insurmountable, incomparable, an artist’s wish there are Pinks, the shades you find on a bashful (or bashed) northerner, on mother’s day cards, and women’s day ads, there are sweet Oranges that I believed only existed in my imagination, but their ferocity greets me every morning, only if I find them, perfect and awe-some but my favourite is her Blues

the blue when she first peaks from behind the curtain, the blue that tells you to hold on a second longer because the night you thought impossibly long is beginning to lift, because they are blue tears I saw in cartoons that could be wiped away, the blue water burdened souls cleansed themselves in.

Her colours come every morning to me, through my bedroom window, where no other light will dare enter, perfectly through the palm trees that line my drive.

she is the reason I drag my body from what I wish was its coffin because in those moments those moments when I spy her in the distance

I am happy to be alive if only it is to see what she has come up with this time.

Every dawn is the same,

in its ability to never be monotone.

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I got my inspiration for today's poem from my morning commute. I take MyCiti to school in the mornings, so if I want to get to school early, I leave before the sun is up. That means most mornings I get to watch the sun rise as I'm on the bus, which one of the most beautiful things I'm able to see every day.

What's the most beautiful, small or big, thing you see either on your way to school/work or back?