Back fades to pink,

A transaction only done at dawn.

The sun is slowly pulled up,

Drawn by horses as large as mountains.

They start slowly,

Straining to pull their golden burden.

They pick up speed

And the sky is painted blue.

A huge canvas,

Waiting for the candy floss clouds.

Tasting of sugar and frosting.

Like ice cream,

But nothing lasts.

The sun is pulled down,

Ice cream clouds melt into soupy gold,

The horses slow,

Gasping to finish their job.

They gallop for home,

Drawn by the comforting warmth

And the rest they are promised.