08282011

Sunday mornings are my favorite, always. There was no rush, and I got to spend my time in your corner, exploring the dark that creates your light. We move slow, savoring each moment until we go. I can see you, still, with your hair pulled back, smiling only when I came around. I miss you most on Sunday mornings, drinking orange juice. I toast to you, and whomever is making you happy now. Sunday mornings are my favorite, always.