take me home - bedroom style I

handmade, wheel thrown

microwave or dishwasher safe. 

That was the season I lived in tandem with the sun,
slipping into bed at the same time I used to put on
party dresses, waking hours before the world began
buzzing. That was when I fell in love with morning.
And I don't say that carelessly. What I mean to tell
you is that it really did feel like falling in love. It was
romantic, but not in a dozen roses in a crystal vase,
candlelight dancing on her cheeks, Miles Davis
turned down low kind of way. It was more like an
overflowing wildflower bouquet, my sister's single
dimple, a Liked Songs' playlist on shuffle. What I
mean to say is, morning's charm is subtle--noticed
only by those who really pay attention--and waking
up to her that summer felt like being let in on an
enchanting secret.