by Sine Qua Non
You crept up on me like a mist on a valley waking up to another morning. I knew you were coming I just somehow wasn’t paying attention. The next thing I know, the morning’s all warm and yellow and you’ve taken away last night with you. I missed something, I know.
Or I thought so. Where I am, the blades of grass remain still in the limbo between awake and unconscious. And the chill of the wind cuts through. It feels as if dawn will never come.