old trees
There's
No rush
This morning;
Take your time and
Breathe in the dawn air.
Voices are soft with sleep,
As if mimicking the breeze
Rustling through the bright autumn leaves.
A fresh pot of coffee is waiting,
And at the table, I see you are too.
I take my place beside you and feel
A content kind of laziness.
We talk, about nothing much,
But it fills my heart so;
And we talk for hours,
Our roots unmoved
By the time
Passing
By.
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