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Jun 9
I can hear it
The whooshing of the breeze through the branches of the tallest of trees

I can see it
The billions of glittering stars dancing on the still water mirrored from the sun high above

I can feel it
The cool lush cushion of grass beneath my bare feet tickling my toes

I can taste it
The fresh open air purifying my lungs with every breath I take

I can sense it
The freedom that calls to me on a primal level
This is where I belong

In nature
We belong amongst nature
It calls to us
The last Poet
Written by
The last Poet  28/F/Wales
(28/F/Wales)   
44
   violet skies
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