Sky On Fire Poem by Chelsea Crisman

A day starts out softly,
Like a dream that has to begin.
It's cool and beautiful,
Like a wish that's never been.
The sun crests the horizon,
The breeze rustles the leaves.
Only morning is like this,
With the sun low in the east.
Clouds start to separate,
No longer pink, but not yet white.
The fluff and float,
Soaring like a bird new to flight.
The sky becomes restless.
The red fades away.
All that's left is a hidden blue
And hope for a pleasant day.
Let's go back to the red.
I miss the blooming desire.
Sunrise isn't like sunset—
The day can't start without a sky on fire