Clichéd

Once upon a time a cliché was born, eight lines scribbled, with full metric form. Starry starry skies and blackest of black nights, or golden glowing sun, light shining bright? The purest of love, a flower in bloom, A newborn, a teen, a soul in the womb? Bubbling out, with children's sweet laughter, our cliché lives on, happily ever after!