It's early,
I hadn't slept at night in a long time.
My mind is racing, yet calm,
I take a break from my restless typing,
My constant reading, to brew a cup of tea,
Jasmine.

It's early,
The water, bubbles softly,
I walk to the next room, the marble tiles slipping beneath my feet,
I draw the velvet beige-brown curtains,
The sky is a delicate blue color,
The clouds, drift across,
The air is cold and crisp,
"I smell rain, nobody has woken up yet."

It's early,
A few lone cars drive by,
A few people, some in pairs, jog by,
My phone lights up,
A message.
"Hey, good morning! We haven't talked in a bit. You okay?"
Not right now - I want a few minutes to myself,
I watch, as the early morn passes me by,
The chilly breeze flips the pages of my book, carrying droplets of water with it,
The sun peeks through the wispy clouds,
And the soft blue hue changes to a mellow orange-yellow,
"It's late. Time to get back to work."
© D.M Wright