At the Dawn of a New Day
The gentle hum of the refrigerator; the steady tick-tock of the old faithful clock; the golden leaves gently drifting onto the grass; the classical music floating down; all these paint a poignant and melancholy morning as I gaze out of the kitchen window. The rain is coming down softly. The morning makes a reluctant appearance into this foggy day. My knee had buckled two days ago. The whole leg and foot look like an overstuffed, painful eyesore. I cannot put on shoes nor bedroom slippers. Instead, I can look out the window and dream. I dream of long walks with Peter. I dream of on-the-spur-of-the-moment country drives through winding roads. The trees above us hold hands above, as their autumnal leaves gently float onto the country road. In our world, all was beautiful and serene. My gaze returns to the future. Another season, another autumn. And so the world revolves through time eternal. And I look out of the window, gazing at the dawn of a new day.