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

LFWW Index

Follow My Blog

Get new content delivered directly to your inbox.

%d bloggers like this: