Categories
Poetry

At Five

Sometimes

I feel five.

Like the world is big

and I am small.

And there are kids all around

bigger than me,

louder,

scarier,

bolder than this softness

that folds me

like tissue.

(No one else folds like tissue.

Just me.)

The softness of me at five

lingers;

a scent

(like lavender)

on the breeze

of my soul.

The softness of me.

The softness of me.

By brookecutler2

Liver of life, lover of everything. 💕

6 replies on “At Five”

Yesss, my exams got over and dad recovered from his covid bout. Soon it will be festive time, though we can’t really go out because of the pandemic, we did some little shopping. Things are much better now. How are you doing? The other blog is still up? I don’t see many posts on it 🥺🖤

Liked by 1 person

Amazing about the exams, and oh no! Get well, Shruba’s Dad.💞And yes, freedom has a new meaning now. But how beautiful it will feel to be past it all. ☀️ No, I’ve stopped Empath days but I may turn the website into something new should the inspiration strike. I’m just so busy with life at the moment, I’ve not had much time to plan anything. I’m happy here, for now. ☺️❤️xx

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