In Beauty, In Peace

Words remain unspoken, sentences unwritten; a novel in progress, the first 30 pages. Crooked hair, tousled teeth - her hands grip the steering wheel that directs her place on the long, winding road leading home. A broken lamplight, her soft mattress lies on a wooden floor, the hum of the microwave at 2 in morning while the neighbours sleep and the loners seek fresh air, an escape from the suffocation of heartbreak and disappointment. 

She touches the door handle and a chill runs down her spine, she flips a switch and her hallway is bathed with light from a single bulb that hangs quietly from the ceiling. Stepping carefully, she closes her door and places her right hand on the wall beside her, her eyes close to shut, her head tilts to her shoulder, her hair covers the left side of her face, she stumbles and falls into comfort, stuffing her face into the softness of the nearest pillow, baby blue and white. 

She falls asleep and wakes up in a dream, sunlight reaches her eyes and comforts her with its subtle warmth, a reminder that it is a new day. A time to start once more, to take another step forward into the distant horizon, a line that kisses the sea of her past and touches the skies of her future. 

A small bowl contains cereal and milk, the daily newspaper sits on the table where she eats. Silently she resides within the sacred peace of morning, unbothered by the pressures of the day ahead. A crunch, metal against metal, the rustling of paper; she lives wholly with all that she is - undeterred by the sound of a soft drizzle hitting her windowsill. 

Her soul basks in sunlight, her heart dances along with the rain.