In the quiet dawn's embrace,
Sunday morning paints its grace.
Soft light whispers through the trees,
As gentle as a summer breeze.
Birds awaken, songs arise,
Underneath the painted skies.
A tranquil pause, a moment still,
Before the world resumes its will.
Sunday morning, sacred time,
To reflect and to unwind.
In its hush, the soul may find,
Peace and solace, intertwined.
So let us cherish this sacred hour,
Embrace the calm, the quiet power.
Sunday morning, gift divine,
In its embrace, our spirits shine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very nice poem with a great flow and rhyming. Loved it. Thanks. Keep inking.