A new day begins
without asking who I was yesterday.
It opens the window of the sky
and lets the light wander in
like it trusts me.
The air feels freshly made,
still deciding what it will become.
Even the clock ticks softer now,
as if time is giving me room
to try again.
Mist lifts.
Dreams loosen their grip.
Hope stretches—quiet, unannounced—
but very much awake.
I step forward with empty hands,
and somehow that feels like freedom.
Whatever broke is behind me,
whatever blooms is possible.
A new day begins,
and for a moment,
so do I.
Thank-you for reading.
Brenda Marie
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