Wild fire on ice
my cheek to pillow
sleep seems like
a half a sheep away
even though
my mind refuses
to just let go
Though it seems close
like a staircase
of pastel clouds and
even my thought-prints
are weary / I ascend
slowly to that softer
place of peace
where there are
no more racing worries
no haste, no doubt
& everything slows down //
to a softer place of dreams
Gretchen Leary 2013
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This is a beautiful poem. 🙂
Thank-you 🙂
Very nice work Gretchen! I loved the time of this poem 🙂
Very nice, peaceful.