Anyone who has watched the sky change colour and felt oddly sad when the light faded will recognise the mood of "Morrow". The poem turns a single day into a small love story. "She" waits for "her sun", who is given a gender and a pronoun, and the sun's rising and setting become arrival and departure. The central idea is that parting hurts less when return is certain. The speaker feels "sorrow" at the thought that he "must go", but she can bear it because the ending looks ahead: she "will dream of his colours" until she sees him "again / In the morrow".
The poem's imagery is almost entirely colour, and there are two palettes. The first is "soft pinks and baby blues", gentle, light and slightly childlike, the colours of early morning. The second is "dark reds and purples", deeper and heavier, the colours of a sky at the end of the day. Her feelings follow the colours. The pastel dawn "catch[es] her breath", while the darker dusk brings a heart that "fills with sorrow". The poet also hides a small paradox in "Light the sky". Sunset is the moment the sun leaves, yet it is when the sky glows most vividly, so the farewell is also the most beautiful part of the day.
Language itself is a quiet theme. The first stanza ends with "Words unable to describe", and the line stops without saying what cannot be described. The syntax trails off, as if the speaker is lost for words. The poem then answers by letting colours do the describing. The odd capital in "she's Memorized" can be read two ways. It suggests she is entranced, mesmerised by what she sees, but it also suggests she is learning the sight by heart. That second meaning pays off at the end, when she can "dream of his colours" because she has memorised them.
The construction is free verse with short lines of about four to six syllables, which gives the poem a hushed, lullaby-like pace. "Its almost time for bed" reinforces this with its bedtime simplicity. There is no regular rhyme scheme. Early on there is only a slant echo between "rise" and "describe". The one full rhyme is saved for the emotional turning point: "sorrow" is answered by "morrow", the title word, in the final line. The sound makes the argument that sorrow is followed by morrow, and that the sadness of the sunset is already answered by tomorrow's sunrise. The stanzas also change shape, and the one-word line "But" stands alone as a hinge. After it, the poem swings from loss to consolation, and the pause before that swing is brief but audible.
Individual word choices carry the story. "Morrow" is an old-fashioned word, softer and more storybook than "tomorrow", and it gives the poem a fairy-tale tenderness. It is also the last word, so the poem ends on the future rather than on the darkening sky. "Waits" in the opening line sets up the poem's patience, and "again" at the end promises that the waiting is worth it. The first line, "Dust to dawn", resembles the familiar phrase "dusk till dawn". Whether the spelling is a slip or a choice, it gives the night a dry, grey, empty feel, which makes the bright colours of morning seem more precious.
The poem is not polished in every detail. It has a couple of loose spellings and punctuation choices, and its rhythm is uneven. Its plainness suits what it describes, though, because it sounds like a private, sincere voice rather than a performance. Its significance lies in how it treats the most ordinary event there is. A sunrise and a sunset happen every day, and the poem asks us to see them as a faithful relationship, one that always ends with a promise of return. For a reader, this is a small, comforting idea: the things we love may leave for the night, and the hope of seeing them again is part of what makes us love them.