The morning glory blooms,

With such a timid sprout,

Afraid of the dark, it opens,

And leaves the night behind.

While its beauty is clearly seen,

Its courage is clearly gone,

As it crawls upwards upon a fence,

It looks down upon the weeds.

The morning glory blooms,

With such arrogance for the field,

The colours of the sunset sky,

Captured fully in its petals.

The beauty is forever trapped within,

Eaten by the hunger of jealousy,

But the cowardly morning glory curls up again,

When the sun decides to drop.