Streaming through my window,
Bursting forth with sweet radiance.
Her splendor falls upon my face,
Like dewdrops on freshly cut roses.
She whispers, “Time to get up, it’s a new day.”
The flowers, they love her for her gentle touch,
But as the day approaches noon
their leaves begin to wilt and wither. Het wrath becomes unbearable
and they cry, “This is too much.”
Oh, how we long for her on a cold rainy day,
but when she finally shows up,
we cry, “Please go away!”