Poetry | Letters From a Woke Woman
Little Things
The snow brought me in. I searched for a warm spot to quiet my restless soul. Full of irritance, caged like a bird, I wandered in, immediately at peace.
Rhythm of Creation
I sit above the crowded streets, The wind gentle on my face It moves the tendrils of my hair, caressing my cheek like a lover would. It moves the leaves and flowers, Sending them singing in a mere whisper The sun charms the clouds to let it peek through, to shine its rays upon those below…
Letters From a Woke Woman
Follow My Blog
Get new content delivered directly to your inbox.
Prncsslyssaart 