Memorizing fondly of you
Feeling poet
So here goes it
Ahaha that rhymed ! Okay here i am:
Slipping second steps and third eyes on the steppe of my dreams, the veranda as they call them, the upper or the inner room; Howsoever you put it, i felt poet as i saunter stepped in the lily field grass at sunset. When i climbed the fresh pine with a notebook and pen in hand and the bald man in a white shirt walking his quizzative dog did look and stare a while as i wondered in awe while my eyes wandered in awe. Beauty itself shone herself that sunset. Yellow tipped purple clouds, fiery blazing daffodils in purple dresses twirl into the blazing sun basketting the day’s glories into a woven interweb of night. So the day carries on, i leaf through the beige pages of my notebook: