Sitting, crouched next to an old sycamore
Gazing at the beautiful horizon
The smell of the earth fills my lungs
As I exhale all the wrong within me
The mind is a patchwork of curiosity and uncertainty
Producing every emotion felt within the world
Sitting next to the sycamore, I empty my thoughts
And my mind produces a new emotion
I love this:
ReplyDelete"The smell of the earth fills my lungs
As I exhale all the wrong within me"