At night, while others sleep
she lies awake, listens
for the tap, tap, tap of a bush
against the windows
the low throaty whistle of the wind
in the bougainvillaea
and drifts into lucid dreams
where her hands caress the djembe
making music for the soul
soft and gentle and hopeful
2 comments:
Loved it then. Love it now.
Thank you so much for your support of my attempts at dealing with what comes up for me. And for hosting our writing group. It is an important experience for me. Hugs.
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