#44 Respite

A wonderful Wednesday poem.


Author’s Note:

This came first this time around because like I’ve been moaning around, when it comes to regular content, my store of words comes dry. So whatever follows might be incomplete or simply trash.

be kind. We aren’t all geniuses.

Stay safe, wash hands.


Dancing in the yellow fields,

of sunflowers with the laugh in the air,

clapping to the beat of the rustic drums,

and the clink of the anklets.

The bark of the unruly dog,

the mewling of kittens,

all of it music for her,

and her audience, the world.

Sun kissed limbs in motion,

swaying to the beat of the heart.

Then she removes the music,

puts down the headphones and sighs,

Better get back, she mutters disquiet

Duty calls and the respite is over.


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