The irony of being
alone in the floresta
is that I am learning
how to be with others.

It is in quiet reflection
that life’s questions
are answered, coming
like raindrops, falling
from leaves long after
the storm has past, each
tiny drop quenching some
thirst I did not
even know that I had.

Marj 6:31

This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Irony

  1. feel calm when I visit and read these words….


  2. 😉 😉
    silver-lined wisdom marie




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