Daylight spills across the lake
in quiet threads of gold,
touching water, touching sky,
a story gently told.

The mist lifts like a whispered dream
drifting from the shore,
while ripples catch the newborn light
and carry it once more.

The world is still remembering
the night it left behind,
yet in the shining water
a softer peace I find.

For morning writes its promise
on every ripple it makes—
hope moving with the sunlight
across the waking lake.