Friday, July 12, 2013


The stillness of my morning rise is poetic

Little of any human nature can be heard
An airy dampness feels like a sticky mask

Each breath creates a steamy foggy mist
I enjoy the stillness of my morning stroll

Not one bird is chipping I wondered why
Walking at my own pace deep in thought

Each thought is an echo of a silent choice
An increasing in pace I am heading home

With time on my side there's plenty to do
Copyright © 2013 Tryphena Louise Williams


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