morning glory. (2015)

I like to think that Josephina is made of all the pink hues in the early morning sky. Her name could have been Aurora or Dawn, I wondered as I opened my curtains, but then she wouldn’t bear the name of she who cared for me. And every morning I bask in her tender light – it’s her only way now to wish me luck for the day to come.

(original from 28/05/2015)

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