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THE BLUR OF MIST AND MEMORIES 🍂
BRUME
Soft morning mist, memories of the past, hot coffee, and the elegance of a new beginning.
November arrives slowly, hiding among early morning mists.
Familiar streets disappear into the mist; golden leaves fall onto the pavements.
And the winter winds are blowing through partially opened windows.
The knitted scarf is lying on the old wooden chair,
And the tea is cooling in its absence.
I drink my coffee and watch
How the mist makes everything blurry.
Sometimes mornings remind us of the people,
sometimes of ourselves.
Dear November!
Give us slow mornings,
handwritten letters,
songs we remember,
unexpected smiles,
and little things that make us happy.
Keep us in our memories of the past.
Without bringing the future with you.
Let the new beginnings come to us silently,
like the first rays of the early morning sun through the misty window.
