to silence the loud beeping.
Slumbering senses come alive slowly.
The seafoam mug dotted with white
cradles the steaming liquid.
The muddy hue and the faint smell of vanilla, inviting.
The chair waits empty.
Pens stand in a vase, at the ready.
A light burns low and calming.
The pages rustle softly as angel's wings.
Enveloped in stitches sewn decades ago,
I am soon lost in the wonder of it all -
the story of the Prince who left the castle to claim me.
We meet somewhere between the earthly and the heavenly;
for I know even the most divine communion here
cannot compare to knowing Him fully.
I have slipped the bonds of the temporal and into the eternal.
These moments - this hour - is sacred.
It shadows all others to come.
The day intrudes, brash and demanding.
Chores beckon and duty calls.
I crash back into the boundaries of time and flesh.
And I count the hours until we will meet again.