The cinnamon roll

Another day closes, for me, in the wee hours of the morning. I have much more work to cover, yet I am beginning to tire. The persisting flame within me, has dwindled. All I need to do is re-light it, and it might last another hour or another minute.

Crazy, I feel it might last the hour, yet I prepare to re-light by the minute.

Or I could let go tonight’s flickers, say goodnight now. Flickers that suggest energy as much as they suggest rest. I take the rest; it seems to be winning . Let go tonight’s frustrations and tomorrow I might have a cinnamon roll.

That the case, all I’ll need to do at the beginning of the day is to sense the cinnamon roll.  To dream its aroma enough to wake me, so I’ll make a pot of coffee to go with it, and enjoy the duet, perhaps with strawberries at the side, before I persist in the projects that will take me through another day.

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