In the pre-dawn morn with nothing breathing, all silent, he whispers, "Papa, are you there?" From the darkness, the first faint glistening of dawn flickers. Overcome with hope, he holds a gasping intake of breath as if in fear of snuffing out the pale glow.
"Papa, are you really there?" Degree by degree, shimmering colours of shell pink and faint gold break on the skyline. "Oh Papa, I love you." Tears spill down his sleep flushed cheeks as the pale glow heats to reds and golds in response. Papa IS there. And Papa has brought him another day.