Early morning , there was a knock at the door,
Sleep was so tender, cold was the floor.
I walked barefooted down the stairs,
Rubbing my eyes, wearing my layers.
Opened the door, no one to be found,
I walked out and looked around.
Only to find a beautiful scented note,
"Wasn't a morning until now" the writer wrote.
-Jessica Kour
YOU ARE READING
Diary of Dreams.
FantasyDesires of heart, the soul sets on fire, the deep dreams or life of a liar. What are these the cravings dear? Who is that voice that you always hear? Love is it, or is it the stories in your head? Dive deep into this if you haven't yet read.
