Morning Light

Two days fold into quiet hums, breath held beneath a calm pulse. Words spill like rivers too fast, caught before they reach the sea— soft currents pulling me past. A new path flickers, shadows bend, anxiety’s tide that crashes, then breaks. Beneath it all, a fire whispers— slow as dawn’s first gentle light, soft as skin that will not end. Hands move in gentle rhythm, peeling layers, shedding time. Love weaves through steam and silence, a thread that holds between heartbeats— quiet grace in simple signs. She doesn’t know the weight of light, how small touches untangle night. Mornings bloom inside the cracks where words are barely breath— soft laughter trailing on. Steam rises, curling slow, time bends to a sacred flow. The house in dreams awaits, balconies bathed in honeyed glow— a room that waits to know.