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 (3)
That was so fabulous. Loved it.
Sometimes I wanna just go live alone in a cabin in the middle of the woods, lol. Loved your poem!
Nature cures the soul! Beautiful capture of the longing for it. ❤️