The new born sun

Yanked out of its slumber by the orchestra of birds
The sleepy sun parted the cloudy curtains
Flashing his gold-yellow smile,
And vanished behind the clouds
To snuggle some more.

“Rise and shine,’ chirped the birds
The sun grimaced, clasping his eyes tight.
“The night is over, get up, you yellow- golden sprite!”.
They raised a hue and cry half- crazed.
At their raucosity, intensely amazed
The sun summoned his yellow- golden rays
“Let’s splash our hues like all days.”
Obeying their boss’s command, the rays big and small
Looked at the wide blue spaces, swallowed their gall
Splashing yellow-gold at blue spaces all.

The mother tugged at the sleeve of her son
“Look, son, the sun is up and about.”
The son peered towards the east
Pierced which was with javelins of yellow and gold.
Emboldened by the golden rain, he beamed. .
Dropped his angry pout, and was up and about!

The sky now lay steeped in the brilliance of the new-born sun
The birds happily flew away, triumphant at a job well- done.

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About Santosh

An educationist with a passion for writing , having published some novels for young adults, some essays and some poems. My poetic biography of Mahatma Gandhi will soon be published .

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