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.