Never Ending

The orange slips folded out,

in a bid to spread its farthest reach,

towards the green, the yellow,

the glory of the sun

from once its inner sleep.

The colour that lives,

the colour that sparks,

in boldness of orange, and

just a tinge of white.

Nothing says more,

of life that exists,

wherever we look,

whenever,

we gaze.

And tomorrow it begins