6:28/7:23

Each morning I rise with a golden sun.

Each evening I set with an amber star.

It floods into the room just as I wake,

And it glides beneath the sea as I slip into bleak blackness of tonight.

I won’t think as I watch the sun paint the morning sky shades of blue.

My day’s forecast is not to be spoken of here,

In this sunrise.

I’ll simply let its glow bleed into my skin and erase the stories of yesterday.

This rising sun marks a new hour.

I won’t think as the evening draws to a near.

This sunset is not a place for tomorrow or yesterday.

It doesn’t bid my day much of a goodbye,

But I would be incomplete without 6:28 and 7:23.