It begins with mornings-
a cup held warm between yor hands,
a glance across a quiet room,
the soft rhythm of ordinary hours.
You don't notice the shift,
not at first.
A season ends,
another begins,
and the familiar becomes
......
It begins with mornings-
a cup held warm between yor hands,
a glance across a quiet room,
the soft rhythm of ordinary hours.
You don't notice the shift,
not at first.
A season ends,
another begins,
and the familiar becomes
......