creative writing poetry Uncategorized

The Stillness

The streets are covered in fresh fallen snow

The birds are quiet in the cold.

The odd squirrel climbs past my window

and peeks his head in to say hello.

There goes another enormous tom cat,

the branches bending under his weight.

If I stand in the window with my eyes closed

I can be at the lake sitting on the sand.

A Kate Morton book and a cucumber water in hand.

The sun feels so warm and yet there’s no one out.

The streets are empty, the parks are still.

Despite the quiet and hush of the outside world,

My thoughts are excruciatingly loud.

I hope everyone is having a good week ๐Ÿ˜€ -Ang

2 replies on “The Stillness”

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