In my delusions of grandeur I felt as though it was all my responsibility.
Mine alone to wrestle with on lonely nights.
But I find that's rather wrong, intricate webs cross our paths with one other.
Intertwining the small fabric of our lives and in that you build a house in my chest.
With stain glass windows and a wrap around porch, you dwell there.
Bringing peace amongst the desolate land.
Fear not weary traveller, you may rest here, I will kindly let the sun shine a little longer on this day.
YOU ARE READING
Hysterical letters to my sanity
Poetrya collection of poems inspired by stories I've read, people I've met and paths I've crossed, read and enjoy yourself:)
