Poetry
Poem: I Am Still
Feet curled beneath me
Early morning light filters past
Bright like crystal
Through the windows
I hear only the sounds of the old refrigerator
Listening to the high hum
The low whir
I lose myself between them
1
Feet curled beneath me
Early morning light filters past
Bright like crystal
Through the windows
I hear only the sounds of the old refrigerator
Listening to the high hum
The low whir
I lose myself between them
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