I come from fabrics pinned to clothes lines, flapping like white flags, surrendering to the warm evening breeze.
I come from piping hot cups of Earl grey tea, served with milk and sugar.
I come from gentle springs, harsh winters, jovial summers and delicious autumns.
Humble roots, but they are deep

It was his sunset-painted heart,
dulcet-washed eyes, and
his contagious laughter that
makes my mornings
and anxiety-filtered moments
spark little fires
deep inside.