Between Bruises and Blooms

The house
holds its breath.

Coffee steams
against the kitchen window.

The cats
stretch into the morning.

Outside,
the dogs wait
for another day
to begin.

For just a few minutes,

before little feet,
before bottles,
before laughter,
before cries,

the world
belongs
only to me.

It’s quiet enough
to hear
my own heartbeat.

Quiet enough
to remember

that peace
doesn’t have to last forever

to still matter.