Blank pages and untouched fields
tickled by the breeze of change;
different are their yields
though their existence is the same.
Words fill the spaces,
flowers dot the land;
adorning the fresh with lace
causing the mind to expand.
Was the garden inspired by the book?
Or the novel by the blossoms?
Art and allure everywhere you could look
if only the wind whisked away your caution.
YOU ARE READING
Sitting Here Thinking (2020-2022)
PoetryPoetry of varying subjects and construction, the second of three. Written while sitting anywhere, lost in thought about everything and anything. Accolades: #1 Thought Provoking 2/26/2020 #1 Self-Reflection 3/22/2020 #1 Creative Writing 7/24/2020 #3...
