By Connor Peters
You know my favorite times in the city?
The quiet times.
Each weekday dawn, and each Sunday midnight,
speak to a secret peace.
When I see sunrise pink blushing the sky,
I fight not to cry.
The sheer beauty of a new day,
of a quiet assurance,
that I get another chance,
moves me silently, gratefully.
Because in the quiet dawn and the midnight whispers,
you and I share our closest times.
A space of a breath, a silence that speaks,
gives way to my unspoken cherishing of
the quiet times.