Wrapped In a Warm Blanket a.k.a. Procrastinating

Listen to that pitter-patter

a chill rain hits my window sill.

I sit here

criss-cross applesauce

drowning my stress

as the steam from my tea

brushes against my face.

Here I am happy,

here I am calm.

Here the weight of the world

can do me no harm. 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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