She is the sunlit start of day
Bright, as brightness strikes its way;
Fresh within the fall of dew
As the next day starts anew.

The waking sun is yawning
Conceiving one more dawning
Genevieve is the morning.

She is the warmth of noontide sun
As the dayspring web is spun;
Sprinkling, sparkling, lucent light
Refulgent there at foreday's height.

A petaled sweet bouquet,
A roseate bathed display
Genevieve is the new day.

She is the mystery of the eve
As, slowly, daytime takes its leave;
A portrait of the deepest night,
A graceful bluebird poised in flight.

As shadowed shades ascend
And in the darkness blend
Genevieve is the daytime's end.