Mine is the quiet that deafens the dawn
in a silence most notably heard;
in its stillness, my breath becomes somewhat withdrawn,
as my senses awaken quite stirred.

Mine is the sight of the vanishing night
as the darkness concedes to its fade;
and just as the stars give me less of their light,
I am left, for a moment, dismayed.

Mine is the touch of the evening's last air,
as a whimsical breeze soon appears;
its gentle caress, slightly chilled, without care
takes its time as the morning warmth nears.

Yes, mine is the day; a creation of time
that will live till the night takes its place;
and as it unfolds, may my presence of mind,
invoke "sense" in its loving embrace.