A quiet day in a strange place where:
outside, rain falls in a symphony on the pavement,
Pink flowers release the sweetest fragrance,
as umbrellas bloom on the walk ways.
Students huddle in pairs to escape the rain,
Chattering sprites they flit by.
Their language foreign to me, like percussion in my ears.
Golden flowers blow in the wind
Gracing the dark heads of passersby,
Glittering like embers in the dark.
Hot tea in a familiar cup,
breathes quiet peace of a far off home.
Quietly, I rest here hugging the familiar
whilst reflecting on the new world outside my window.
By: Theresa Lazt