There must be a soft place waiting nearby

Where I can rest this heavy head of mine

Yet it’s as if I am ever-searching in vain

Under rocks, in briars, through thorns and rain

For the safety of shelter where I can weep

For that dry spot of Earth where I can fall asleep.

Published by Quietest Poet

Writer, mother, counselor, flower gardener, recipe seeker, and Netflix lover.

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