it was 5:22 in the morning.
the sky, barely glistening with the promise of darkness
still held the illusion of scattered starlight
suspended in the air above a canopy of trees.
frost lightly decorated rooftops,
had left faint breaths, reminders, already fading away.
devoid of colour,
nought but a pale grey hue hung over the morning…
trapped within a lifeless pool of birdsong.
Leah's Writing 