Waking up in hazy wind,
lights greeted me with hue like ink.
Dawn just fell upon on me.
Took a deep breath I got raised.
I approached my window right at its middle.
A beam of lights tore a gap,
flowery, and summery.
On the nightstand the clock whispered:
five thirty-five in the morning.
Then suddenly I quitted
the idea of bed and dreams.
I flung the curtains wide open.
Glamorous, but not dazzling,
Milky brisk sunshine dispelled the darkness,
It spread out gently on everything.
On the horizon were great masses of clouds,
dense and indistinct.
With only a faint rose-tinted shadow,
outlined in a few strokes
at the junction of the edges.
A Rembrandt canvas,
the whole sky was
of overlapping lights and shades.
Morning peeled off its shell.
Nascent shyness and vitality,
something was hiding under a calm quietly.
Who was waiting
for brighter daylights
to fully wake up every streets?