Wind wraps around me like a blanket. In a blustery playground my boy has fallen asleep. And there is space and time, of a sort, standing hands in pockets, brook rushing by behind me, I hear it’s eddies and ripples, see the winter light brimming, spilling over, winding through the trees. All alone like I don’t like to be. Is this how she meant it, Virginia, when she talked of dipping your heart deep into the stream?
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Posted bylizpikePosted inBlogroll, Living Creatively, Parenting, Poems, writing lifeTags:elisabeth pike, Parenting, poem
Published by lizpike
Elisabeth Pike is a writer and designer. Voice at the Window, a collection of 100 gratitude poems written during lockdown is out now. Circles: Nurture and Grow your Creative Gift was released in April 2019. Her prints and books are available at https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/LittleBirdEditions. She lives in Shropshire with her husband and four children. View more posts
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