Afternoon View, a poem.
The Setting:
The soil turns black as rain
pelts the ground, making it both
fluffy and rich, a place where
the thirsty hydrangea can prosper
and the common yellow day Lily
will bloom. I seek my sanctuary
within the warm walls with subtle light
casting its yellow hue across the pages
of my books. Blankets and pillows crowd
me and I snuggle amidst their beckoning
words which seem to whisper, “Stay.”
And so my body folds into a cradle,
arms carefully squeezing me tight,
and in the softest whisper I can muster
I quietly respond, “Okay.”