The Road to Paradise Pocket
“Come now little one, under your covers you go” A booming voice sounded throughout a dimly lit rustic cabin.
Tiny feet began thumping a few rooms over as the large gray man sat on a bedside stool and gazed out into the blowing snow outside. It had been snowing for days now, another day and his view of the outside may begin to obscure. He could hear the wind breaking now though, not as harsh and powerful as it had been the day before, his vision a few yards further, and the sun a hair brighter that afternoon. Yes it would break by morning, the snow would stop and the sun would cast its warm healing rays over the tiny frozen town.
Comments (7)
Confucius would be proud of this bit of wisdom
Whoaaa, this was so deep! Loved your poem!
this is lovely
Depends on if you are growing wildflowers there are some pretty weeds out there. I planted and wildflowers seeds and the weeds seem to help them out.
Its a fact, weeds kill beautiful flower garden for sure
Powerful food for thought!
Much more than a gardening question here. A profound poem!