Morning

There is a magical moment when I am all alone,
when everyone is still asleep and quiet fills our home.
The kettle boils good morning, the kitchen clock it ticks
I pour the milk into my tea and lazily I mix.
Early morning dew clings to the grass outside
I yawn into the nothingness and stretch my arms out wide.
Slowly and very gently, I let the day come in
glad for this moment to myself, before the rush begins.

© Kate Phipps Writes