Morning

We sit in the corner of the cafe
Lift the glass from the table
It is quiet as a library
Silent as our scars
Dawn shimmies through the clouds
We hear the call of birds
Their silver wings cast shadows in the sky
Spray us with light and gentle calls
Bees carry messages
Dance merrily
Wrap sweet honey around our lips
We watch them
Alice wraps her fingers around mine
They are sticky
In her pocket is a tiny collection of shells
She jingles them like pennies
A perfect fit
Be careful not to break them she whispers
Her voice almost choked
Barely audible over the morning sun
In the park figures hunch over chess boards
Playing games
Parked up
All a sham
We have our own games to usher in the day
We close the door
Breathe deeply
The gulls trill and the trees sway
We lie on the floor and think
Savour the light and gentle breeze
Who knows what adventures the rest of the day will bring.