Delicate

There’s a trace of lavender in the air.
The books are resting quietly.
I’m on my third caramel.

I’m thinking about what constitutes tragedy.
What is grace and when can we let go?
The sun has boldly made an appearance.
Is that a sign to look up?

The days will spin with or without.
There’s room for every emotion.
I’m on my third one of those too.

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