In the first light of morning, where the shadows softly fade, A symphony of silence, in the dawn's embrace is played. The world begins to waken, with a whisper, not a roar, As the sun paints golden hues across the sky once more.

The flowers greet the daylight, petals kissed by morning dew, Each one a silent promise, of the beauty that's in view. The breeze, a gentle messenger, carries tales of dreams reborn, As the world renews its promise, with the whispers of the dawn.

 With each passing moment, the flowers' fragile beauty fades, Their petals wilting under the weight of time's cruel blade. The breeze, once a gentle messenger, now carries a mournful sigh, Whispering of dreams long lost, drifting into the sky.

In the quiet stillness of the morning, memories linger like shadows, haunting the edges of consciousness. 

Whispers of the Dawn

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