The Dawn

Some sort of grace before dawn, when the forest is hidden in the cloak of night, when puppies are sleeping quiet in their beds. When a beloved husband, who will wrestle his demons is at peace. There is a hush of promise, as I sit at my desk, the sounds of silence crying loudly in my head. A gift is being given, this moment, this day anew. I must stretch my body to rise out of pain, I must stretch my faith to forget that which came before and press into a new day. Morning has broken, I am stretched as high as my tip-toes will go and faith that flutters, in the dawn.

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