by Brilliza J., 13
Paradise…
is that the place that holds the pleasures?
How do you know when you’re there?
You know you’re there when the sun shines brighter
and you laugh a little louder.
Right now, there is no leaf upon the forest bare,
no flower upon the ground,
and little motion in the air.
But all you hear is the swishing of the mill-wheel’s sound.
Bridge Ink 