There is hope in this day; hope for rain and flowers and understanding. I don’t ask for much, just a moneyless existence. A mosquito net and running water. I dream of red dirt and sweet milky tea. I dream of verandas with an afternoon breeze. I’d like a trustful hand to help me across the street, a friendly soul to sit with me and remind me. I hope for color and something real to offer. I’ve seen the world and its music and pain. I’ve felt its tears in the pit of my stomach. I long to hold its hand as it crosses the street and offer my smile as simply as I can. I know today, this land, this place, these lessons learned and days lived out are instilling in me. Slowly. Daily.
2/2/2013
2 comments:
To that hand, you deserve a good one Heather!
I don't know about deserving, but here's to hoping:)
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