#1212018

Morning reflections are the clearest

Untouched by the passion of the night

Unhindered by the mundane day

Optimistic but the closest to reality

Sometimes a little too realistic

When the harsh sting of regret is sharpened

And whispered promises of the night before

Dissipate like fog in the morning sun

But not this morning

It’s fitting that it’s Sunday

Because this morning smells like hope

New beginnings from the smoke of last night

The good things were hidden then

Barely discernible but definitely there

But morning has a way of exposing things

Laying them bare in the soft light of dawn

So breathe in the fresh air of the morning with me

The smell of smoke clings faintly to my hair

Reminding me of the decisions silently made last night

Neither of us acknowledged them

But we know they’re there

As I wait for you this Sunday morning I know

What was just smoke last night is real today

So I breathe in the fresh air of knowing