The Unfamiliar Window of Morning

The light seeping in between the hotel curtains is still cool. Outside the window, a bird whose name this city doesn't even know sits on a branch. The scent of coffee slowly fills the room. The wind from the alley I walked yesterday still lingers on my fingertips, and a flower whose scent I don't know was blooming by the road. I breathe on the glass and wipe it, but what I see beyond it is still only unfamiliar rooftops and the ridgeline of distant mountains. I simply watch that scenery in silence. With time, this view may blur in memory, but the temperature of this cool morning will stay for a long time. Leaving always begins that way, like a soft wound.