Her Light Waits
Jul 14
1 min read
Updated: Jul 15
Some mornings,
the sun looks at me
like it remembers the day I first decided to stay.
Back then,
she hovered outside
unsure if I would open the door.
Now her light waits on my face,
bright and warm
brushing against the scars I carry,
like a soft supporter
who never stopped believing in me.
Comments