when i was writing about a summer’s day

21:15 in narratives by tanner

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.

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