There is a freedom in reading
That invites your soul to feel rhythm,
To question emotion,
To rub the mundane from your eyes.
While you brave the calm storm,
quiet symphonies of sound whisper in the wind
Until you grasp imagery and hold details
In your hungry, lonely arms.
The setting turns into your playground
After characters become friends.
Warmth fills your heart
As the bright sun waxes strong.
Crisp rain gently falls
Once you let go of dark fear
And breathless despair.
As looming, limiting anguish rises from your chest,
You just might feel
A cold, dancing snowflake
Grace your outstretched tongue.
- T.B. Williams
- T.B. Williams
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