The Soft Things

The quiet is here and so am I.

I will life to slow down, I ache for it; I am not made for speed.

I am made for the whisper of the trees, for the silver trail of snails on a rainy path.

I am with this world, but I am captured by it, not a citizen free; can we ever be free, when we have each other to hold? The answer is no, if the heart runs as deep as this.

No, built from sacrifice and deep, deep love.

But how I long to live the day exactly as I choose.

I would live beside the river.

I would walk and feel the breeze.

I would have my family, only.

And I would draw, and sing

and give my heart to the soft things.