sketch

dawn filters herself into my morning coffee, as she tenderly fingers the flowers sitting on the windowsill. downstairs, buses and taxis horn impatiently as they wait for her to get on. she sighs, clearing her throat in the morning exhuast. the kettle whistles merrily as she steps out of the shower, soft light like trinklets down her hair. dripping wet with dew, she peers shyly out from the shower curtains. i rub bedclothes and sleep out of my eyes, straining for a second look - but she's hidden herself back in the shadow, a half-smile hanging from her lips. before i can say a word, she slips away, out into the morning hustle.