WHYGARDEN fifty-six
The cold wind has traveled a long road
Sunset flickers through the forest
and vanishes
Rosy clouds
quietly fade of their color
Those things left undone
Those hesitant footsteps
Could they pause
and rest awhile
The warmth between palms
slips through fingertips, plucking out strings of
clear, amber notes
A forest glade veiled in mist
A languid violin drifts in and out of hearing
Wild lilies listen in stillness
Snowflakes brush against the cheek
The fire in the room
As if in the air
Dancing a waltz of freedom
Warm smoky orange
Driving away the cold solitude of the lake
I stand in the twilight mist
Unable to see the fog
Yet able to see you
RECOMMEND · SPACES
WHYGARDEN
Time Well Wasted in Spring Light
If we never make time for the seemingly useless, how are we to spend our finite lives?
WHYGARDEN
Spring Stirs Above the Clouds
If noise is not your way of life, enjoy the quiet of answering only to yourself.
