Stealing time before light

If I was a flower growing strong growing free, all I'd want is you to be my sweet honey bee.  It's the song of the alarm.  A gentle song until it plays loudly at 5 am.  Then it's harsh and I want to swat at the honey bee.  Luckily he knows not to come near at that time.

It's getting brighter out.  The mornings are gently lit and the 4 o'clock rush is met with sunshine.  It's nice to need my sunglasses during my Monday to Friday grind again.  But the morning fog will lift much more easily when the room isn't so dark.

I think I heard Brooke in the night.  She's getting better at sleeping through.  Perhaps those dark puffy rings under my eyes will start to subside soon.  She's a little girl now.  I still see some baby of course but she's transitioned.  We're about to pull all the soothers from the house.  All but one that will stay in her crib.  It will take a day or two of adjustment and then she will settle.  She will accept they aren't there and resolve her upset.  My goal is to hear more words.  She seems to accept that she's the one amongst us who doesn't talk as we do.  It's our job to coax it out of her.  I'm not worried.  I can see she's got it.  The language.  Now for the physical of verbiage, literally.