In the hour when morning light seeps through the curtains, I find myself recalling the temperature of the things I love. What is the smallest taste of yours that opens today?
Only you can see your answer
In the hour when morning light seeps through the curtains, I find myself recalling the temperature of the things I love. What is the smallest taste of yours that opens today?
Only you can see your answer
Sunlight through the curtains grazed the rim of a glass jar set on the crock terrace. Its warmth reminded me of the back of the cat I saw yesterday. Wherever the sun has passed, something warm lingers.