Morning poetry 2

Seconds passed,
to form a trickle of minutes,
a trickle of minutes came together,
to a stream of hours.
Streams of hours,
brought the flood of day.

The flood that washed away all our worries,
and our buried thoughts and emotions.

The flood that washed us anew,
as white as sheet,
and brought the dawn of a new day.

A new day of new hopes,
of renewed expectations.

The vicious cycle of the girl who wished,
and wished and hoped and wished.
And waited for the magic hour to arrive,
only to see it pass her by,
like the seconds that passed,
to form a trickle of minutes,
a trickle of minutes came together,
to a stream of hours.
Streams of hours,
brought the flood of day.

And yet another new day begin.

We'll keep living these days, these moments,
never-ceasing, ever-breathing.
We'll keep asking the questions, that give us hope,
the same ones that cause the disappointments,
but the same ones that shed light.

Good morning you all.
its a brand new start.
To a brand new second.. and minute... and...