G I N G E R T E A
I sit.
My hands around my cup of tea,
smelling the ginger wafting to me.
I gaze.
I gaze up into the sky.
Counting moths that flutter by.
I listen,
I listen to the sound of a soft wind,
barely making a noise as it touches my skin.
I feel.
I feel my hair brush across my cheek.
A gift from my father, so very unique.
I sigh,
I sigh, and snuggle up in my blankets of fleece.
I am finally at peace.
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Dreaming: A book of poetry
PoetryDreams of angels, Dreams of songs, Dreams that haunt you all night long. This is a finished book of poetry that I wrote in my first year on Wattpad. Is it good? I'm not sure, did I write it from my heart? Yes, yes I did. If you could leave a vote a...