It is difficult. It is difficult to live as if there was no tomorrow. Or no next. It is equally difficult to live as there was no yesterday. No past. Such are the tastebuds of mind. Sweet and sour and spicy thoughts, it likes them all.
Aside, I eagerly await the spring flowers that will bloom in boulder; the tulips, the wild flowers, the cherry blossoms and the roses.
I long for the buzz of the spring, when bees and birds will be busy alike, the trees and grass will be green again, and together, the stream and I, will hum a song of joy.
No comments:
Post a Comment