Light touches the foggy reflection of the night that has been.
Witnessing such wonder seems to make recollections clearer in a morning
that recognizes the coldness of the dawn,
the anxiety of the day, and the anticipation of the future.
Three months, two periods, one heartbeat, no recognition.
When doubt becomes a crucial spice that is easy to get used to,
and the overbearing silence of the trees is the only thing that puts you to sleep,
you long for the pain that you once knew,
but it will never come back for you.
Moving forward while counting backwards,
People come around, like the passersby that we all are.
Enticing as it may seem, you stay where you are
and fight the temptation to leave the roots that’s keeping you alive.
Standing still, hope is the only companion that you try to keep for so long.
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