When your lungs succumb to the crisp clean air of a winter morning;
Warmth of loved ones in a place of serenity;
Exchanges of laughter;
So loud and so carefree.
When you're out far too late that not even the ghosts are out to whisper;
Walking down a road so vacant and never ending that you question whether this world is your own.
Appreciating the universe for not asking you for anything and just living for the hell of it.
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 4:42 PM UTC
When your lungs succumb to the crisp clean air of a winter morning;
Warmth of loved ones in a place of serenity;
Exchanges of laughter;
So loud and so carefree.
When you're out far too late that not even the ghosts are out to whisper;
Walking down a road so vacant and never ending that you question whether this world is your own.
Appreciating the universe for not asking you for anything and just living for the hell of it.
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