Infatuated

A Winter's Morning

The Cold wind rushes past.
Standing at the window,
With my eyes weary of the night's dream,
I wander into illusion.
Far beyond the horizon
where the blue shades paler
off my mind
and a sublime peace takes over
covered in the warmth of white.
Back after a while,
the morning struggles to break away
from the clutches of the clumsy night.
With all the might
finally somewhere far
there appears the first ray of light.
Golden orange, soothing warm,
It'll be yet another day soon
A beautiful day.