To feel the warmth or rather the scorch of the sun as I walk through dusty streets with people and car traffic and all kinds of smells from the pleasant to the very not pleasant filling the air.
that place is home...that place supposed to be bushy, that place where yo have walked and laughed and sometimes cried. that place is the place that keeps joy unspeakable endeared especially when extravagant grace is available.
2 comments:
oh, how I long to be in the city in the sun
To feel the warmth or rather the scorch of the sun as I walk through dusty streets with people and car traffic and all kinds of smells from the pleasant to the very not pleasant filling the air.
There is no place like home
that place is home...that place supposed to be bushy, that place where yo have walked and laughed and sometimes cried. that place is the place that keeps joy unspeakable endeared especially when extravagant grace is available.
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