Morning Has Broken


Pale light drips down the curtain and stirs the stale air slouching against the baseboards. A draft from the hallway drags the odor of old paint across the floor. Dust rises above threadbare cushions where empty hours pass. A window must be open somewhere. Faded injury meets fresh insult. Hope, long hidden behind closed doors, sags under the weight of another day that has only just begun.

11 thoughts on “Morning Has Broken

    1. It is odd to think of someone waking up in the dark center of that building not knowing or perhaps not even caring that a beautiful day was waiting to be explored just beyond those walls. The heat has been oppressive. It seemed fitting that the words should be weary. Thanks for your comment.

    1. I think Millie Hollingsworth may reemerge before the summer is over. LOTS of creativity is bubbling up as I continue to process the events of these past few months. Thanks, Allan.

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