The song of the morning sky

Days slip into

seasons

and my drive

to and from work

was assaulted with the beauty of

the church spires

that lie silently against

the morning and evening skies.

Sometimes

in those

beauteous moments

I completely forgot the world.

Tracked the rising and dying embers of the sun

when I could.

It's Sunday again

and you lie gently sleeping

beside me as I write.

The quietness of the day

is palpable.

My thoughts

are that

these are the days we can never touch again

and yet they remain because

of the beauty that surrounded them.

This week

I've had to throw my heart wide open

learn not to close it

and remember always

that if I look really really closely

I can always

see

a ceiling full of stars