but morning comes to church
the sounds of choir hymns
over traffic
under you
I study your face in the light through the blind
we make dreams under stars but I want to see you in the sun
are we the end of winter?
breath that feels a little warmer
the first blossoms start to bleed from trees crying over asphalt
pink in the morning
I pass them on the ride to school
I hope you see them too.
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