Just Another Beautiful Monday
Morning spills its amber ink across the sky,
a quiet promise whispered to the streets—
the world, still draped in night’s soft sigh,
awakens to the hum of a fresh refrain.
The coffee steam curls like ancient incense,
each curl a fleeting note of patience,
while sunlight threads through blinds, a lattice
of gold that stitches time to the day’s new canvas.
In the park, the lilac breeze nudges the trees,
their leaves trembling as if recalling yesterday’s rain,
yet they stand—green, steadfast—ready to receive
the chorus of sparrows rehearsing sunrise’s hymn.
Traffic hums a lazy lullaby, an orchestra
of brake lights and distant horns,
but beneath the rush there’s a rhythm, a pulse,
the steady beat of ordinary miracles.
A commuter pauses, eyes lifted to the horizon,
finding in that fleeting glance a quiet wonder—
the world, unscripted, yet always generous,
offers its brilliance in the smallest of moments.
So let us not label it “just another day,”
for within its minutes lies a hidden art:
a Monday—beautiful, unassuming, and brave—
a reminder that every sunrise is a fresh start.