Before the Sun

What I Almost Missed

Some dreams arrive like dawn, quiet and full of meaning. I almost missed him, but peace has its own way of staying.

I woke in the hush before morning,

no birds, no breeze,

just the stillness of a world

not yet awake—

a breath held between night and light.

In that silence,

he lingered.

A smile in the corners of sleep,

a laugh brushing mine,

too simple to notice

at first—

too easy to believe it real.

He hugged from the side,

not to hold me back,

but to say

I’m here.

No vows,

no rush,

no grand declarations—

just presence.

Just peace.

He kissed my cheek

like he’d always known how,

and said exactly what I needed,

no more.

There were crowds in the dream,

so many faces,

so many doors—

but he was the soft light I almost missed,

the stillness inside the noise.

A European man,

mine—

not by possession,

but by patience.

He waits,

not to claim,

but to understand.

And somewhere between sleep and sun,

I remember him.

Quietly.

Fully.

Like dawn

finding its way

through the dark.