Piles of books on the floor.
Darkened curtains hanging on the rails.
Cups of half-drunken tea to be seen.
Drops of water dripping into the pails.
Unfinished projects on the desk.
A dress on the mannequin to be sown.
A plate of newly baked scones,
lying on the breakfast table.
A dog in his basket, chewing some bones!
This is the life you lead,
away from everything.
You say it gives you peace,
not to be the center of anything.
It is not for you this world
of crowds, drama and noise.
You would rather sit with a book,
Or look at a sunrise.
The quiet life is for you,
so you have learnt.
The less people you
have in your circle,
the less you get burnt.
Also its a question of energy,
you feel the vibes so strong.
You sense everything,
and what they have done so wrong.
Life is simplier this way.
Being an introvert is not so bad.
The peace and quiet outweighs
No need to be sad.
Verse: Sandra Kavanagh (c) .20220206
Painting: The Introvert by Cynthia Decker.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem