There’s a thing about a morning
The way it settles in
How the mist moves slowly
How we feel
I wonder if anyone else watches
about how the leaves look
That’s the thing about a morning
Each one is slightly different
I hope your day treats you well.
We are death while alive
sipping on imagination
not always our own
It was a different time. A blank sheet placed between you and I. I went first. I closed my eyes and there we are. No. Don’t draw. Don’t write a thing. Though, I ought not understand. No dots, scribbles, and thoughts. All are too thin. M-Taggart.