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Hygge
March 10, 2021
In my brain there grows green moss
with four blankets piled on top
all slightly dusty and very soft,
on fuzzy sheets that need a wash.
Because moss creeps,
and breathes, and grows.
just like us, it moves slow.
Hot milk from your favorite cup
heals what cold numbs.
frost melts from your fingertips,
you breathe the steam that it becomes.
Then eyelids drop
and sink like rocks.
like leaves that glide
on smooth lake tops.
Quiet breaths and silent mind,
dream yourself a world that’s kind.
Sleep tight.
© Anonymous
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