The shadows of the morning…


The shadows.

They slowly creep down the fluffy carpet. The warm rays adjoined by their darker sisters, the shadows. That grey presence visible in every nook and crane of the vast room. They mirror contour of the objects like a jealous, sinister manifestation. They echo the light, the warmth and the good.

The shadows must exist, because only then do we notice and appreciate the bright light that gradually yet firmly forces them to retreat.

The room is soaking in sun light. A new day has come.

Daily prompt from:


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