The first light

 

As the first light of morning softly kissed the horizon, the world seemed to hold its breath in reverence. The golden hues of dawn painted the sky, their warmth spilling through the curtains and wrapping around us. Your face, still cradled in sleep, was illuminated by the tender glow—a vision so serene it made the moment feel sacred.

 

I lay there, watching as the sunlight slowly claimed the room, its touch gentle, like the way I wanted to wake you. The rhythmic rise and fall of your chest was the only sound I needed, a quiet symphony that spoke of peace and love.

 

Unable to resist, I leaned closer, brushing a strand of hair from your face, my fingers grazing your cheek. Your skin was soft, like the whisper of the breeze outside. You stirred slightly, your lips curving into a faint smile, as if even in sleep, you knew.

 

The day awaited us, but in that quiet cocoon of dawn, nothing else mattered. The world could wait, for in your presence, time itself seemed to pause. I thought of all the mornings to come, of waking beside you, of light and love and endless beginnings. And in that moment, I knew—forever wasn’t a concept; it was here, in your embrace, in the way the first light of morning brought you closer to me.