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Frayed Feisty Threads - Book IV
Time...
It is quiet
It is still
Signs of twilight scatter o'er the hill.
The clouds float by, purplish pink,
It's God's time;
It's time to think.
A cool breeze stirs;
A lazy bird chirps.
This moment is mine; it's
sweetness never parts.
It lingers closely in my heart...
Twilight.
Dedicated to teens everywhere who
know and love the beauty of
twilight.
1964
Author's Note ▶︎This is my favorite of the earliest poems; I suspect this was composed in the late summer or early fall.I have the original.
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