The Colours Of The Skies

At daybreak I see red, fiery and warning.
It illuminates the sky, getting brighter minute by minute.
It takes over the cotton clouds, lining their edges.
It is wary of the day to come, of what it shall unravel.

Later I see blue and yellow, safe and content.
The rays of light stretch out, transforming all to gold.
The clouds begin forming shapes, shape-shifting at their will.
It promises us happiness, all worries are forgotten.

At sunset I see orange, warming and tranquil.
It tints all it touches, bringing beauty upon the world.
The sun lowers further and further, eaten by hills and buildings.
It bring peace to all, unwinding from the lengthy day.

In the night I see black, dark yet somehow peaceful.
Bright white lights in decoration, show beauty made from wounds.
But darkness all around them, reminds us of the suffering.
It all forms a terrible beauty, the moon its glowing master.

Beauty comes in many forms, not just things and sites and faces.
The colours of the skies change throughout the day.
They go un-noticed as they blend into one-another.
But others’ loss is my gain, as I stop to smell the roses.