Writers 
I used to chase tomorrow like it owed me something more,
running past the mornings, missing what was right in front,
forgetting that today itself could be a gift, a door,
not just a waiting room before the life I really want.
But somewhere in the rushing, I began to slow it down,
began to notice sunlight resting soft against the floor,
began to taste my coffee, began to hear the sound
of laughter drifting gently from the room beyond my door.
I am grateful for the ordinary, the unbothered, quiet days,
for hands that still remember how to hold what matters most,
for lungs still full of breathing, for uncomplicated grace,
for every simple blessing I once took as a given ghost.
I am grateful for the people who stayed when they could've left,
for lessons wrapped in heartbreak, for wisdom carved from pain,
for every door that closed so a better one was kept,
for growth that came so quietly, I almost missed the gain.
Today is not a rehearsal for a better life ahead,
it is the only moment I am promised, standing here,
so I will hold it gently, I will cherish it instead
of always waiting on a future far less clear.
So thank you for the small things, the ones I overlook,
the ones that build the chapters of this ever-changing book,
for every breath, every heartbeat, every chance to start again,
today is enough. Today is where the joy begins.