Some mornings it feels as if all the moments have been written, every emotion explored, every leaf already turned brown in someone else's poem, every full moon and every flicker of stars has been captured in three succinct lines.
Then, on the very same day, something shifts and I end up discovering an aha moment, that is unmistakably, undeniably mine.
3 a.m.
my husband stirs
at the click of my pen