Sunday Morning

Sunday Morning, Sanctified day where even the air has a certain peaceful whizz to it, so as to keep worries at bay and holiness to be the only scent. Morning light, seeping in through the window, sneaking a peek at white sheets that go oh so well with the glow of the brown picturesque bodies underneath them, his hands tightly wrapped around the eighth wonder that is his love. She stirs and his mahogany colored eyes look into hers and a smile spreads across their faces because nothing is as beautiful as waking up next to the other and hearing a heartbeat beating almost as if synchronized with his.

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