Forever etched into my imagination was his description of Eos, the goddess of Dawn:
"Young Dawn, with rosy-tipped fingers"
|Our plum tree, brushed by the|
rosy-tipped fingers of Dawn
These autumn days, I awaken to darkness. But I don't mind. It gives me the privilege of seeing Dawn's rosy-tipped fingers caressing the sky as I warm up with my cup of coffee.
I wonder what sobriquet or epithet you would like to depict you?