Falling, falling, falling.
There is no sound, no speed filling the air other than all these diamonds of silence and cold.
A smell fills the room before I notice, the smell of a lid candle.
Slowly the light outside fades. The sun has to be setting, the foxes should be wishing the rabbits a good night now while the forest is being covered in a blanket of freshly washed sheets.
Everything is falling asleep.
Falling, falling, falling.
Familys are celebrating, shops are being emptied, but I just sit and watch, falling apart.
Letting the snow cover my thoughts.
All the battles have been fought.
YOU ARE READING
Found
PoetryPoetry about feeling found and calm, finally at a destination. I sadly only know the nationality of the artist, spain.
