Love Letter

Dear Anonymous fictitious teacher of Russian Literature and Magical Realism from Hungary that is married to Mr. Bedea,

What is a sunrise? A broken light from heaven?
No-- it something much simpler than religious idols,
poetry, or the concept of an afterlife.
It is you: The sunrise is you.
The site of you in the mirror of my eye makes the earth
seem not so melancholy, but surreal to say the least.
A glance of the light given from the rays blinds the common,
but attracts the world all at the same time.
Every morning I wake up to your shine- at least I hope too.

Love,
           Anonymous fictitious student from a Russian Literature and Magical Realism class who would like an A.