She’s nature’s scribe

As the cold morning breeze started its course, 

The wind chimes on her porch jingled, 

Resonating vibrations tuning to her heart, 

She sat next to her window, lost, thoughtful

Her old leathered scroll, spread on the table

A quill shaped pen, stuck, in her twisting fingers

While she stared at the morning sky, blankly

As if she was  breathing the nature inside her, 

The smell of earth, the cold air , the song

Of the birds and the clanging notes of the chimes

A golden thread of thoughts floated from the cloud 

surrounding her soul like a bright ringed halo

While she worded thoughts on the rusty pages

As a scribe to tales directly narrated by nature

Her writings have always been one of kind 

For it comes from a very beautiful mind!

Side note : Dedicated to a good friend who is also an exceptional writer and poet.

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12 comments

  1. Wow… This poem is so lovely…. The words are perfectly woven into a beautiful piece… I remembered my morning last month when I sat in the balcony to write early morning🌸🌸

     

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