A boiling cup of tea sipped still on a drizzling, chilly day
Brings and holds warmth and comfort
Cuddled up in a blanket, book resting open
Words pouring, flooding the wide, dusty pages
More to discover, learn, find, the further read
A window beside, separating everything from nothing
Golden light flows gently through
The beauty wrestles with what lies inside
Good appears, bursting from the darkness hidden within
A deer, calm, quiet, shy; observes all the wonder
Turns back to the books
The old bookstore in the mind of memories, thoughts, feelings
Shifting through each on, suffocating in dust
Ancient books, fallen deeper, not wanting to be found
Hidden and lost
Tucked behind the speckled sage, chestnut shutters
Eyes holding it all, the keeper pulling a curtain across
A separation from the inside
A galaxy, locked tight with no key
Below, colours flood the face
Spattered freckles, spots of creativity
Golden eyes staring down to a page of scribbled words
Pen floating above, brushing the paper, lightly
Ideas flowing and blowing in the wind
Words of love and kindness
Spreading wildfire
A dandelion flying through the air, trying to touch down
A small seed
In the mist of an ocean
Trying to plant
