I thought it comforting,
Strange how the closure overcame my hurt.
It wasn't the blare of a trumpet in an effort to surprise,
But a soft whisper telling me that things were alright.
It was not some magnificent discovery of a lost artifact,
But the comfort in already knowing what lay in the ground.
It is not an epic, drawn out epiphany.
It is simple, a sweet tune without words,
It is enough.
YOU ARE READING
A Touch of Wonder
PoetryA book of poetry filled with thoughts, experiences, and emotions. "As I walk down the slippery street, My face streaming with tears, The sadness can barely be sustained. But you suddenly kiss away my fears, My dear umbrella in the rain."
