The dust motes dance in a golden line,
crossing the floor while the clock takes its time.
The world outside is loud and fast,
but in this square of light, I’ll make it last.
No deadlines, no drama, no static in my head-
just the warmth of the sun on the edge of my bed.
-
Author:
Lilmoonxx (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 17th, 2026 05:51
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
- In collections: Unspoken Notes.
Offline)
Comments1
Beautiful a splendid example of how the most simple can be made poetic and lovely. Loved it
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.