Sometimes we hit a stretch of road
Where everything in life makes sense –
And all is brought in harmony:
The future, past, and present tense –
The apple blossom blooms for us
As though no other eyes could see –
And happiness surrounds our hearts:
A place we thought we’d never see
But go we must, we cannot stay;
This order and this symmetry
Get left behind, this stretch of road —
This slice of
Immortality
To share is human:
Wow. that IS what it seems like, though I could never have said so!
Thank you, … what should I call you? “Relax”? Something else? Anyway, thanks. – Owen
I really, really wish you could call me Honora, but it’s Carol. 🙂
Thanks, Honora… I mean Carol.
LOL