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Who You Share Your Mornings With

as steam rises in white curls

like fog greeting shore, a subtle moment stilled,
calming voices unimportant, unneeded, uninvited.

in this silent hour i can be myself.

i don’t have to be anyone else.
here with my history on my shoulder 
and beliefs stuffed like a lover’s note in my back pocket.

a slow fire of dawn sneaks-in through words. 
rising behind my eyes, 
beholding unseen secrets even the world keeps,

shining as a spider’s web on a frosty morning 
as touching seams gleam and reveal

a secret shared in love.

what we share

when we really share
is the most important thing about us.
with friends, enmity becomes transparency: 
in a world of made-up faces, 
where voices curl like irons,

and looks can shatter like vases; 

it matters more than anything else

who you share your mornings with.


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