My window frames hanging clouds in the morning. Dreary light blankets the street scape, grey and still. It is quiet and breathless. Sunday morning and the world is resting. Collectively, we are all sleeping in. There are no children in the street, no early morning joggers. The lines are blurred, colours muddied and I gaze across it all with an empty mind and resting heart. A sigh breaks my own silence.
I am weary today. The weight of my own existence is all the load I can burden. My eyes are my portrait, an expression of my state. Grey is the colour of lead too. Bother is something I cannot bear. Tired bones take my frame to face the day. I shower, dress and put on my best smile. The best has to be to come.
Cherub faces in angel suits greet my descent. They are blissfully ignorant. Breakfast is a welcome distraction, and talks of princess dreams begin to colour my eyes. Giggles nudge me from slumber and my heart beats faster. Rosy cheek grins crack my resolve. Tickles are a post meal treat.
My coffee is fresh and milky. Aroma fills the room and my skin. Streaming sunlight bursts through open blinds. Warmth floods straight through me, lifts me. I sit and look out at people walking dogs and kids on bikes. The smile on my face is real now. Good morning world, how are you today? Did you sleep well? Did you have pleasant dreams?