My days begin on catching your hands. Time matters with you.
For the fleeting past walked beyond our reach, and our futures approach in view.
We hold Now in the space between our palms, and the heat between our fingers.
I see who you are, the mirror,
or the lover,
And I whisper to myself, once again
My day had begun.
From attempts in framing the start of one's day, and the never-ending energy from the sunlight on our faces.