His eyes fought through the fog, trying hard to spot the daily things. The chillness of the steel handles of his chair travelled the depths along his skin. His already misty thoughts froze – life was vague that dawn.
She reached the glass vase on the table nearby, putting in it fresh roses that were just plucked. He focused, failing to decide between the flowers and his love— not just a beauty contest, rather a war! She smiled at him, tucking behind the fringe of silky hair that fell elegantly on her face, no less it looked than a gentle waterfall. Her eyes had hypnotised, providing him a morning potion.
He suddenly felt the life kneel down, accepting the defeat. He now had beautiful reasons to live, briskly. The mist cleared off.