Morning.

My favorite time? That moment, between dreaming and waking. When all is warm, light, and golden. I struggle for consciousness, lost in delusions of uncertainty. The radiator clicks, hissing at the brisk world outside my window. My eyes yearn to open, but I force them shut, seal them closed, pleading for one more instant in a frothy mess of feather pillows and golden sunlight. My aching back pines for me to bridge, instead, I burrow further in the down of my comforter and pray for bleached sun. I admit defeat, unbolt my lids, and attempt to focus. Goodbye violet darkness.

Hello, yellow morning.