Quiet mornings of creativity.
Those moments in writing when the words flow like molten rock. When I crank out a handful of poems that are almost perfect. When the silence is not oppressive, but rather, a means to navigate the passages in my mind. When the demons of my day have not yet crept in to cloud my thoughts and bring on panic attacks.
Apologies. Frank Turner actually sings about Monday Morning in "St. Christopher is Coming Home." But he also has a song “Sunday Nights.” It seems I blended the two for a moment.
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