A warm cup in hand, I greet the morning,
steam rising like the first breath of day,
whispering that yesterday belongs to itself,
folded away, no longer ours to hold.

We only ever move forward, step by step,
leaving behind what was—
not in regret, but with a gentle nod,
as the sun tips over the edge of the world,
stretching shadows that grow long, then fade.

In this moment, I drink the quiet,
sip by sip, letting the day settle in,
not looking back or too far ahead,
just here, where the light meets the earth,
where the warmth fills my hands,
and I am reminded,
there is only now,
this morning, this breath, this cup,
and the soft unfolding of what comes next.

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