Mornings

Tea cooling next to love letters on the window sill,
dreams real yet surreal, almost tangible.
Sea and mountains in your lungs,
memories, monuments to beloved moments past.
Lessons sewn into your very marrow,
tangled up with the movements of your unconscious mind.
Breathing in every millisecond,
each precious opportunity for growth and death.
Growth and death, an endless cycle,
swirling in your teacup, like leaves
in the autumn breeze.

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