Soft Silent Refuge


Arriving from the raucous bar, the restless classroom,
the fluorescent supermarket: I cross the threshold
into the best kind of alone, where I am blissfully
by myself: free to nestle into my soft silent refuge
and re-stack hardback novels and water my fittonia
and my graptoveria, which is reaching towards the sun
with thick greenish purple leaves. Sheltered from
rain, commotion, questions. I curl into myself,
hugging to my chest the warm comfort of solitude
as it expands and recedes like the cotton clouds
morphing into entire cities outside my window.


2 thoughts on “Soft Silent Refuge

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