All motions are fluid as she descends down the stairway
So delicate
As if she never even touches the steps
She remains in the nightgown from the previous evening
Her long, dark hair complementing its dark complexion
A cup of tea that's a little too hot
The morning routine
She quietly moves to a window
Softly blowing steam off the top of her cup, fogging up the glass in front of her
The outcome of contrasting temperatures does not cause her to move
She remains still
Silent
Elegant
She turns to face me, and my eyes open
Where she used to lay, where I used to meet that euphoric smile
Is now clairvoyant