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