its you

the morning soft light
the dew of the air
the messy of the hair
the blur of the eyes
the steam of the tea
the sweet of the bread

and theres you
existing in the same existence as me

messy hair
unfreshen face
watery eyes

and somehow my eyes fix to your smile

to how you carry yourself
to how your eyes blink
to how you smell your coffee before you sip
to how a bit of bread touch your lips
to how your skin glisten to the morning air

its a magic to my eyes