The early bird speaks louder than words

Our morning ritual is more than a given, its required as much as one requires water to survive.

We awake and feed, then baby goes back to bed allowing me time. I make a cup of tea and tend to my plants, turn the heating up a notch and read the news.
I make a cup of coffee and sit for a while pondering the mind and smoking an illicit cigarette from the kitchen window.
I take the stairs regularly to check on my beautiful princess, leaning in over the crib and gently touching her cheek or stroking her hair, occassionally Ill touch her palm and almost wake her but realise just in time that the more sleep she has now the more smiley the day ahead will be.

I generally find 2 hours of of peace and relative quiet which without I seem unable to function and our whole day ends up out of kilter.

Today so far is going to plan, there is an underlying cloud of sadness for some reason I dont know and so far am unable to lift - but all will be well once baby wakes and our day together begins...
after all, no [wo]man is an island, but for a couple of hours at least.