Untitled

There’s that moment in the morning

when you wake up first and get to watch them gently

cloaked in the thin silk of sunlight

at peace, with their day empty

full of possibility.

​

There’s that painting on the wall

the one that melts away your periphery to own you entirely

pausing the world to pull you through its brushstrokes

to the smallest existence just you and the painter share.

​

There’s that easy breath you take

when the night air is just warm enough and so gently green

and the sweetness fills your chest with memories

of a thousand innocent evenings that blur into the distant carnival lights of ages long gone, but still there

​

​

and then there’s you.

​

​

​

1|2

​

Edit: Line removed.