Poetry
Posted: 03 Feb 2024, 13:36
Morning Light
I’m really not sure of the moments that I see visions of you, or what makes me begin to write them down. I close my eyes, and this is what came about.
I feel you writing in the early morning light. The words are soft and well composed bringing a light airy mist to the mind. Your fingers circle your palm to exercise the gentle words that come to light. The story still stands that every time you use your hands it brings the divine, swirling in lines of emotions lead by inner sight. As lines flow into the direction of dreams I have seen your eyes. Awaiting the colors that you have chosen to place like northern lights that scream over time.
I see you step outside and walk to the bottom of a mountain seating yourself next to a rock in the ground. The smell of coffee rising to meet your senses. You slowly take a sip and place the cup upon the stone. The moment of my clarity fades.
I’m really not sure of the moments that I see visions of you, or what makes me begin to write them down. I close my eyes, and this is what came about.
I feel you writing in the early morning light. The words are soft and well composed bringing a light airy mist to the mind. Your fingers circle your palm to exercise the gentle words that come to light. The story still stands that every time you use your hands it brings the divine, swirling in lines of emotions lead by inner sight. As lines flow into the direction of dreams I have seen your eyes. Awaiting the colors that you have chosen to place like northern lights that scream over time.
I see you step outside and walk to the bottom of a mountain seating yourself next to a rock in the ground. The smell of coffee rising to meet your senses. You slowly take a sip and place the cup upon the stone. The moment of my clarity fades.