I was a Morning, once
With windows in my eyes
The sun came spilling quietly
And filled me with surprise
And breathing felt like wonder then
And living felt like air
I did not know I had a life
I only knew I was there
The voices started soft and low
Then grew to crowd the light
They told me what my glow should be
Until it dimmed from sight
My laughter learned to quiet down
My wonder learned to wait
The world that once was endless wide
Began to narrow into fate
And something in my windows changed
No sudden break or cry
But like a curtain drawn too soon
Across a morning sky
And now when light returns to me
It lingers at the door
As if it knows the child who shone
Is living here no more
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 3:17 AM UTC
In an orchard where sunbeams weave through leaves like golden threads,
I glimpsed her, a cherry blossom in white, where beauty gently spreads,
Her presence, a delicate fragrance of vanilla, soft and true,
With cheeks aglow like dawn’s first light, and ribbons kissed by dew.
Her hands, with tender touch, reached for the fruit within her grasp,
A dance of fingertips on ripened skins, a symphony of sweet and rasp,
Each bite a quiet celebration, a whisper of nectar on her lips,
While I, a distant fruit in another grove, felt my heart’s soft, aching rips.
How I long for the cherry blossom, my heart entwined with distant dreams,
To be a fruit she might someday yearn for, beneath the moon’s gentle beams,
Yet, here I linger in the shadows, content to watch her close embrace,
Hoping one day she might desire me, though I remain in a far-off place.
Jul 21, 2024
Jul 21, 2024 at 10:52 PM UTC
How I long for a slow life, where moments drift like dandelion seeds,
Each whisper of time a soft sigh in the stillness of quiet meads.
No hurried footsteps disturb the hush, no frantic rush nor urgent needs,
Just the gentle cadence of twilight's breeze, where soul and silence intercede.
In the attic of my thoughts, where shadows dance and secrets dwell,
I weave dreams with threads of moonlight, in a solitary, enchanted spell.
Away from the clamor of worldly strife, where tolling bells no longer compel,
Here, solitude sings its sweet refrain, in echoes only the heart can tell.
Oh, to linger in the hush of dusk, where the day's harsh edges soften,
To dwell in the embrace of words unsaid, where dreams and whispers often
Conspire to paint the canvas of time, in hues of amber and saffron,
In this quiet sanctuary of the soul, where peace reigns sovereign.
Jun 21, 2024
Jun 21, 2024 at 4:05 AM UTC