Light comes every day,
creeping into my bedroom,
like a blade of gold,
pressed to the morning’s pulse.
It breathes across the floorboards,
slow as a secret,
revealing only what is real
as the temperature begins to rise.
Dream's slowly fade,
from the night before,
sleepy eyes awaken,
rolling towards a new day.
lingering in the stillness,
just beneath the warmth,
a feeling not yet named,
but impossible to ignore.
And I rise with it,
caught between what was,
and what waits,
in the unfolding day.