sunrise

When the sun rises from the east,
Casting a coral and melon hue across the sky,
Birds arise from their slumber and start to sing,
Their sound travelling through the windows of warm houses with the presence of morning chills,
And coffee being brewed as the toast leaps out of the toaster.
The morning newspaper has been laying on the front porch for an hour now,
Craving to be embraced by the human hands and read,
While resting on the family favorite sofa that's been plastered near the largest window for months now.
The breeze from the casement blowing the aroma of the black coffee around the house,
Waking up the much loved significant other.
This is when I am the most alive.