in the morning the day pours through the cracks under the blinds. if only we could hold the night a little longer. the radio stirs on command to talk about the weather. morning eyes and ‘did you have any dreams?’ I don’t say it feels as though I’m yet to wake up from them.
we take our time to spoil the scene. without words we honour the fragility of whatever we are doing. a slow rise into the day, reluctant, soft and gentle. once the frame has been dismantled we surrender to the in between. I hug you on your doorstep and thank you for your time. you thank me for blessing these halls. another silly goodbye, never using words enough or well. we leave ours ghosts with questions in the wings for us to catch another time.
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