image from freepik.com
poem submitted to "Bite-Size 151" poetry contest, Line Gauthier, sponsor
Morning drifts through the room, its softness laying on everything. Objects hold their breath, waiting for names that never fully arrive. In the quiet between things, incompleteness becomes its own kind of grace.
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
