In the dying hours of every day
I find myself cheered
By the details of the world:
An open voice,
A crystal glass of amber serum,
Rippling deep into my transfixed soul.
Past rippling canopies
And sugar powdered breezes.
Picking a blossom
When I wake up
Before the ever-exhausting alarm
And the sun-kissed dawn greets me.
My cup of tea
Warming my palms as I nestle
Down in the winter-dusted cushions.
The promising breeze tickling the tea tag
Against my knuckles.
And the enveloping presence
Of my loved ones
As we sit under the rising honey moon
The incandescent sky
Lighting our way.