sitting in the sunlight
the winter's brittleness penetrates;
pond's laminated shimmers whisper
frightening warnings of frost, and
for a moment,
My world is on hold.
brutal wind hits my face, the trees dance in
amusement,
the ducks gawk at my unfamiliarity,
I smile and shrug
because for a moment
My world is on hold.
this wooden bench is my freedom
an escape
from My troubling reality.
it is a shame
I had to write this vicariously
and only imagine,
putting My world on hold.
Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 8:00 AM UTC
sitting in the sunlight
the winter's brittleness penetrates;
pond's laminated shimmers whisper
frightening warnings of frost, and
for a moment,
My world is on hold.
brutal wind hits my face, the trees dance in
amusement,
the ducks gawk at my unfamiliarity,
I smile and shrug
because for a moment
My world is on hold.
this wooden bench is my freedom
an escape
from My troubling reality.
it is a shame
I had to write this vicariously
and only imagine,
putting My world on hold.
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