I thought the age of miracles had long ended,

that Gods, because they no longer cared, had forgotten the Earth.

But then I saw her honey coloured hair.

That days, filled with anger

when men turn to guns instead of books,

made me believe we were slipping into chaos once again,

as we do each century;

but then I gazed upon her smile.

A selfish joy, perhaps,

when all I want to do is hold her in my arms

and there, together, forget the terrors that lonely humans

inflict upon each other.

I thought a morning was meant to be lonely,

but then I held her to me, and found the sun, even before it had risen.