Dawn should awaken not with silence, but shouts;

not with dread, but hope;

you should be standing hair wet and shoulders dripping, face turned to the sun rising over the trees, feeling its warmth creep across your cheeks,

breath shallow then deepening, a sigh to a cry,

confusion lost, and for a moment fulfilled;

the chill of night gone,

the sunlight absorbed.

There should be a smile, a wink, a whispered yes,

I am, you should say,

I am.