Early Morning Moments.

Early hours of the morning stretch on, slower than I would have expected them to. I watch the sky. I’m facing the wrong direction but I don’t really care; it’s still breathtaking. I love the sky.

I don’t know how much noise I’m making... all noise is shut out except melodies, aching melodies that mean so much more to me than anyone realizes.

Buzzing from lack of sleep, I can’t be sure if I am dead tired or wide awake. My head reels with all these old sensations, so new to me now.

It gets lighter and lighter out, like a dial is methodically turning, the brillaint sun is not quite peeking through the trees. Shades of blue are ever-changing into yellow.

The air seems fresher, even though I am inside. My back is stiff and hunched and my neck is twisted, a part of my body always uncomfortable. But the view is worth it. I see everything, it seems. I get to see the early workings of a slumbering neighborhood. I wonder if anyone else is awake, and what their reasons are.

My cocoon of pillows and sheets and blankets are somehow cold, even though it is summer.

I wonder if anyone out there will look up and see this girl sitting at her window, staring upwards in a trance.

For these moments I have to believe. Believe in beauty. In humanity. In hope. For a new beginning.

And as the sky begins to turn pink, I yawn.