Tanner Brockwell

i was remembering summer days, and the soft caress of the sun on my face. i was remembering idle moments, and thinking of how special it is to share. i was lost in a reverie of the sanctity of nature. all this wrapped in several lines. is such reflection normal? it matters not, for i find comfort in the mortar, the cement of words that are laid in building a pinnacle. and oft the most important word is last.

Popularity: 1% [?]

Be Sociable, Share!

• 

Related posts:

1. when i was writing about reclining pleasure
2. when i was writing of a dance
3. when i was writing of darkest air
4. when i was writing of the lonely hall
5. when i was writing of blossoms