Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
I quietly slip beyond my door, leaving behind an unwashed floor. The heap of ***** crumpled clothes, the end of which, nobody knows. I close my door, turn from the mess, breathe in, and drink of quietness. Then take my lonely, lovely stroll deep in the woods to a hidden knoll. Where I shall dream, and plan, and pray gaining spirit and strength, for a very full day.
0
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 12:44 AM UTC
Beyond the Door
I quietly slip beyond my door, leaving behind an unwashed floor. The heap of ***** crumpled clothes, the end of which, nobody knows. I close my door, turn from the mess, breathe in, and drink of quietness. Then take my lonely, lovely stroll deep in the woods to a hidden knoll. Where I shall dream, and plan, and pray gaining spirit and strength, for a very full day.
Raising four children in a row overwhelmed me at times. There seemed no way to succeed at everything, and those moments of getting away, saved my sanity.
jane-clark
Written by
American
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 12:44 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem