Dawn’s first blush
alone is witness
to the familiar ballet
of hushed tap tapping of dual keyboards
in perfect harmony,
the undertone of turned pages,
the muffled scratching of
inspiration’s pen on creamy paper

The ringing of the hallway clock
signifies the noon hour:
lemon-balmed tea,
flower-infused honey,
and strawberry slathered scones await
but hardly a morsel is tasted before,
wordlessly, the worn path upstairs
to the sun drenched room is taken
where afternoon is spent
whispering morning’s work
against each other’s neck 

 © Aurora Antonovic

Recommend this article...