Existing in Time

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Someplace in between an inhalation and the sound of the creaking wood floor,

I become alive enough to know that another day is waiting to be greeted,

And the smell of freshly brewed coffee fills the air,

The timer worked one more day.

It is not raining and the sun peeks through the blinds to say that it is time.

Time.  Another time.
The same place in time, on time.

It’s about time.

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