Transition


My days are different now...
I wake to kisses from the sun and
Sleep to the soft murmurs of
the moon's lullabies.

Days are slow...
I can feel every second pass like
Ants marching to a crumb.
Every second that passes is
a soft blow
so unfiltered, so raw like honey in
Early spring.

I don't smell so much...
of sorrow and regrets,
long nights nor faults.
I have planted honeysuckle seeds and i
feel them growing,
Anxious to bloom.

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