I step outside upon the grassy lawn,
In the wee hours of the morning.
A fresh new day has arisen,
The newspaper flung on the ground,
Like a jacket thrown in a lwn chair,
In my front yard.

Brilliant colors spread over the horizion,
Like a box of crayons scatterd across a table,
As the sky stretches
From northeast to northwest,
Like an overstuffed rubber band,
In my front yard.

The yellow sun shines brightly,
Like a blazing ball of flames,
Pearly white clouds,
Drift lazily past me,
As children play games,
In my front yard.

The dusty hot day winds down,
Giving away to the dark evening,
Shadows dance upon the twillight,
When I watch children collect fireflies,
As I sit on my porch swing,
In my front yard.