My satchel filled to the brim

With hardbacks heavy and stories joyful and grim

 

The field of sunflowers yellow

And in the distance, a weeping willow

My picnic basket housing a bottle of merlot

And a single wine glass hollow

 

I imagine my mother must be knitting

And in her comfy armchair, she would be sitting

 

My sister studying under the sturdy oak

My brother attempting to fix a toy he broke

 

My father must be strutting down the pavement

Passers-by watching as he came and went

 

And I sit under the willow, the silence comforting

As I remove my books and begin my reading

 

I’m transported to places far and wide

I know myself most with my books by my side

 

I managed to use seven words! Enjoyed writing this one the most