A peach coloured morning

I whispered a secret into your quivering lips,

And surrendered my storms

Into your quiet sea.

I locked it with a promise, made to myself.

To never be afraid of waking up again.

You smelled of caffeine and comfort.

And I knew right then-

The mornings didn't belong to the sun anymore.

The boorish truth about mornings, although,

surfaces only in the waking hour.

Ad we see our dreams disintegrate

bit by bit into ashes.

But that day was different.

Almost peach-like I were to paint it right.

In a moment of half formed consciousness,

I suddenly learnt what mother's discipline

and the world's most efficient alarms couldn't teach.

That to wake up with eyes closed 

only helps when followed by 

your tight embrace.