Tapestry

A canvas of dawn, with brushstrokes of light,

Gold spills like honey, dissolving the night.

Blush-tinted whispers caress the still sea,

Mirroring skies in a dance wild and free.

Emerald meadows breathe sighs in the air,

Dewdrops like diamonds, so fragile, so rare.

Petals of saffron, of violet, of rose,

Unfurl in the hush where the soft river flows.

Mountains wear robes spun from sapphire and mist,

Crowned by the sun in a golden-kissed twist.

Zephyrs weave ribbons through branches that sway,

Singing of spring in the bright newborn day.

Here lies the beauty no artist could keep,

A picture of wonder too vast and too deep.

Yet framed in a moment, in words rich and true,

This tapestry I weave—made of vision and hue.