A thing of beauty

Sense: A Collection of Short Stories

In the city there is an island
Where life rustles beneath the surface
Of a green exterior.

A growing heart and hearth
Telling of a time once disappeared
And now only hinted at
And cultivated.

If you were to remove your shoes
And socks filled with the grief of hard days
You would feel and sense the grass beneath your feet.

If you were to inhale,
You would sense soul and Nature
Connecting once again.

The city is kept out and caged away
Few intruders from it’s depths can touch you here.

Just close your eyes
Take a breath
You are where you’re meant to be.

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