Tastes like gratitude, smells like sweetness
The lying eye of nostalgia, I know he doesn't mean it.

My life is green with patches if dryness, but it's okay. At times my crops may be dry around the edges or I will be thirsty from the labours of watering and pruning.

There will always be gnats and rocks that lie in the dirt.
Some days I will bleed and be bitten, others I will miss, misplace and mistake the common trials
Believing it to be my demise,
Some days it might have been
And one day it will be.

I know that common is full of cracks where unknown creatures crawl and where also blessings dribble and pour.