Mornings have a unique innocence.
It’s those serene moments in the
dim grey light of the morning,
where the dew is fresh on the grass,
and the larks and mockingbirds have yet to sing.
The dawn is yet to wake,
and the world, just for a moment,
is still asleep.
I treasure these moments.
In these moments I lose myself
as I feel her curl up beside me.
I forget all the heartache.
I forget all the pain.
I only remember the morning.
I only remember her strong, soft arms
pulling me into her embrace.
The curvature of her body.
Her head resting on my chest.
In these moments I know no pain.
I know no sorrow.
In these brief moments,
I am at peace.
Then I wake up. And she’s gone.
So delicate moments…
this is beautiful.
Thanks MJ 🙂
Ellen, I keep coming back to this. I feel a bit of shame and guilt for it, like I ought to have some worthier longing. But, of all the places I long to be, it is a quiet, slowly lighting dawn, were I reach out and feel that she is there, warm, and soft, and real. I hardly dare to actually dream it, just the perfume of it threatens my well trained mind.