The room is curiously dim
Toes warmed by the weight of fleece and down
Lips kissed by the morning chill
Brewing cafe's scent tempts the nose
The steam warming frontal lobes
The feel of bitter goodness flows
Down the throat and through the veins
Flannel cap muffles the ears
But they still hear loud and clear
The wonderful sound of silence
Wet, fallen leaves under insulated feet
Give no clue of being trampled softly
Icy branches brushing the cheek
Gently say "good morning"
Amid the days of chaos and rush
Among the schedules, demanding life away
The rare gift of memories and love
Lies in the Glorious Mystery of Grey.
