Quiet on all fronts and as for me a silent storm. The silence is not evil but beautiful and vibrant in colors. A beauty that is unspoiled and unspoken. The silence is not a season nor are there reasons. The quiet room is where I shall be, where my thoughts flow endlessly. From beginning the silence was there and now to here. Silence storms stronger than ever before in waves of rage. In waves of gentle caresses from mother nature herself. Hush there is more to realize than we thought before. Shush you know what is there and what is not. The silence stares in the dark on the front of the page silence storms and you write the rage.
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About the Creator
Virginia Worthington
My poems speak for themselves
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