Here is a space where the sad breeze stops

earlier than the breath begins.

And here the peace rests thick and smooth

and here the calm drifts to soothe

and here the self-talk does not move

to pound the beat of a painful song.

We’ll stay here between this breath and that

where the peace rests deep and silken,

leave the room where crippling sorrows brood

and dream a dream of a kinder, tender mood,

out of the black dog’s teeth, chewed

but in the place where the sad breeze stops.

Let us dream a dream that’s kind and tender

here where self-talk does not move

safe from the black dog’s teeth

and where the sad breeze stops.

Copyright © 2019 Bridget Webber. All rights reserved

Independent content creator, ghostwriter, author https://tinyurl.com/y2cgqhgv mental health advocate, and poet. bridgetwebbber@outlook.com

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