The door whispers softly

and the air touches your hair

just briefly

The echo sounds back from the smooth

grey walls

For a moment, silence

The beating of your heart and the scratching

of iron on paper

Words under a minimalistic light

the mumble of half sentences

You are o so secretly sneaking up to him

The surprise of all this beauty is simply





◄ The writing shed, Dylan Thomas.

Style. ►


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