Teacups and Dreams

Over the stillness of the woodlands
Silence softens the hour.
Dawn softly nestles in the treetops,
Reflecting the blue of sky upon the snow.

A cold white washes through my window,
Morning light wakes each familiar object with a burnish glow.

In my home tucked at the bottom of the hill,
Wrapped in my woolen robe and slippers
Down the staircase I tiptoe
Casting mysterious shadows as I go…

The steam rises from my breakfast teacup
As I muse…

Daybreak through the forest trees,
Sunrise and memories.


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