The sun comes up, a simple fact,
paints the grey sky with a crack
of yellow light. Birds start their calls,
from rooftops, trees, and garden walls.
I watch it from my kitchen chair,
a chipped mug warm within my hand there.
The coffee’s weak, the toast is burnt,
but still, a lesson I have learnt.
It isn’t grand, this daily start,
no trumpets play, no beating heart
announces it with pomp and flair.
It’s just… it’s there.
The neighbor’s dog barks down the street,
a child’s laugh, light and sweet,
drifts in through the open pane.
A gentle rhythm, like the rain
that fell last night and washed the dust
from leaves and grass, gave them a gust
of vibrant green. It’s in these things,
the small, familiar offerings,
that life resides. The work I do,
the friends I have, a sky so blue
above my head, a warm embrace.
These simple moments interlace
to form a tapestry, rough and plain,
not perfect, marked by sun and rain.
But mine. And in this common thread,
I find a life worth living, bred
not from some grand, heroic deed,
but from the planting of a seed,
each day anew, a quiet start,
a simple beating in my heart.
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