Poetry


The sun is warm, in the background there is the hum of lawn mowers,
the quiet suspension of napping children,
and the peaceful chaos of a summer day.

In this sunkissed room the windows hold wide open.
The wind blows the curtains just right.
Every so often the curtain flows across the strings of the guitar.
And every so often it sings out a small, but on key, note.

Comments

  1. So beautiful! I love you, Rachel! We miss you like crazy, and wish you traveling mercies on your trip...

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