Favorite Little Nook Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Going to a familiar place, somewhere you go every day,
once in a while becomes unreal - becomes a painting.

Trees standing tall, shadows falling on the buildings
behind them, look like miniature fake toy railroad
landscapes.

Everything looks and seems so small, as if someone has
carefully placed each and every thing I see into a
bowl of clay to put upon display somewhere.

A favorite little nook in life seems so unreal, walking
on by it, knowing a little later I will come back and
become a part of it as I write tonight.