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Sunrise in the Morning Time
It’s a deep yellowish-orange
It rises and sets everyday
It is not called beautiful or pretty
It is where beauty comes from
There are no words for what is besides a shining star in a tenebrous sky
It is beauty itself coming to please us
But the beauty is in war
For dark gray starts to cover the morning sky
But she can’t lose
She finds an opening and shines through like the grace of God
She might be lightning up a small part of the world
But she has made my day fresh
Made my day new
A spring chicken.
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