On a fine August morning
As I stand before the clearing
I would see the dappled clouds in the east
Turning orange-red.
I would then see
A round red ball rising up slowly
And would close my eyes in her honor.
In response, she would send
The first rays of her light to kiss me.
Fresh breezing air from the garden
Would then hurry up to hug me.
August mornings are lovelier like my mum
They are fresh and tender like her love
They are caring like her hands.
So what if my mum is far away in the east
I keep getting her call
Every morning when
The first rays of the sun kiss me with love.
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