Blessed quiet. Small round patch of grass.
Rain falls from a cloudy gray sky. Bits of sun break through,
I've always loved the rain... Not getting wet, but the sound of it falling and the freshness of the air relaxes me more than anything else.
I have a spoken word version of this poem on my YouTube cha...
This piece is a quiet realization brought about by meditation.
Fires of hate only consume when fed by the darkness. Or something along those lines...
The secret garden Down the ginnel, past the post box
Those purple and green hills I long for
A memoir about a place that I once spent a great deal of time in contemplation.
A tad late for the prompt but ey well.
Rain falls from a cloudy gray sky. Bits of sun break through,
I've always loved the rain... Not getting wet, but the sound of it falling and the freshness of the air relaxes me more than anything else.
I have a spoken word version of this poem on my YouTube cha...
This piece is a quiet realization brought about by meditation.
Fires of hate only consume when fed by the darkness. Or something along those lines...
The secret garden Down the ginnel, past the post box
Those purple and green hills I long for
A memoir about a place that I once spent a great deal of time in contemplation.
A tad late for the prompt but ey well.