• Senses

    I’m no poet, but for what its worth, this came to me last night.  Hope you like it.

    Partridgeberry jam by the spoonful from the jam dish: You can taste it.
    Wood smoke drifts from chimneys in the frosty morn : you can smell it.
    Dew kissed fence palings on your path : you can feel it.
    Vapor rising from the glass like sound : you can see it.
    An echoing put put from down the arm : you can hear it

    Home, it fills up your senses, never to be forgotten.

    … Me …

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