Saffron morning, hush of dew,
first light spills on fields of blue.
Lark lifts the sky with threads of gold,
your breath beside me, slow and cold.
River of quiet, mist on stone,
we walk where only dreams have known.
Sunrise kneels to touch your hand,
a promise written in warming land.
Stay, stay—let the day begin,
all the world is wheat and wind.