The rising red ball of fire
The one that turns into a rounded laddoo
My love that comes with cool morning air
That golden sun may I see once
The nights are busy, my child weeps
He refuses to go into a good night's sleep
He demands stories and wakes up late
I wish he were there to welcome you home
The work and calls and needless thoughts
They all that keep me away from beloved
The beautiful sun that brightens my day
I wish to pray to my each morning
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