take off my shoes and step onto the wet grass. what a summer bliss. forget the likes and the clicks. the thumbs up and the smiley faces. it’s the grass and the soil. it’s the mist that washes my face as the sun sneaks a peek and hides behind grey sky. the warmth, the salty air, and I have reached the sand, the waves coming and going like that friend who cannot say good-bye. I cannot longer wait for that morning, for that dream not to be a dream. I cannot longer dance the dance of waiting, hoping. it is now. it is what I make it to be. it’s my bare feet finally sensing the nature and her glory.
sometimes we say what we say
from “pollution” collection