A Morning on the Little Balcony

The morning light slips through the curtain. Steam still rising from my Cup. Birdsong behind the blooming ivy. The old town softly wakes up. Footsteps echo past the square. A stranger smiles and disappears. I jot down lines I'll never send. A falling leaf lands near. Some things need No words at all. Just sunlight Leaning on the wall. It's enough To hush the world. Like music that says nothing at All. No one sits across from me. Only silence, only air. Yet somehow the world is speaking. From this quiet balcony chair. I stay within this morning frame. While the world still Whispers My name.