In the breeze,

the tattered leaves,

the sun in the sky,

the clouds above so high,

the warmth on my skin,

when the air isn’t heavy, but thin–

I can breathe again.

In these moments,




I can think again.

When the sun shines after a storm,

prior, when thunder was rocking the world,

lightening so bold,

but beauty follows in rays of yellow–

I have hope again.

I can wish again.


Photo from Pixabay.com, by nikolapeskova


Author: tiredmindtypingfingers

Writing about writing and chronic illness, and trying to make something out of it.

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