Paper thin voices at the library

Birdsong at dawn 

Marching in the rain

Weak, frail, but smelling of wisdom and joy

Freshly baked bread

Squeaky new shoes 

Sleeping babies

Stiff, fresh sheets and I just showered

Silent, powerful machinery 

Perfectly cut cubes 

Kittens purring in my lap 

Every little sound crisp and audible

Talking to you till it was too late to sleep

Worn pages crammed with words

Clean, cool and calm;

I know what all these words mean.

They used to make me happy.

I still think about them sometimes 


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s