This morning. 

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When I can’t sleep and the morning finds itself in bed with me, I love looking at beautiful things. The process of blooming flowers creates a warmth and familiar sensation in the depths of my stomach. I feel sympathetic and sweet as the petals begin to appear and the sun’s rays keeps forth the positivity to encourage the blooming. I’m finding mornings are coming faster these past days the less I’m finding peace in the quiet of the night. I remember waiting all day for the sun to rest and the first star to appear in the soft pinks and romantic hues of blue in the evening sky. I would literally search aimlessly until I found at least one, just one. Nights no longer phase me as they signify the ending of what I believe to be my day. Lying here in this cold bed with all these what could be thoughts, I guess my fixation on mornings stems from all the possibilities the day could bring. It’s the beauty of the 9:30am sun that brings me out the house, whispers and playfully taunts me with warm kisses. The flowers that have made their way to my door step as if to remind me that everyday is a process and even what you believe to be the worst day, beautiful things are happening.

Written May 28,2014

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One thought on “This morning. 

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