When I was young, I used to lie on my back in the fields and loved to watch the clouds and their strange images float by, while I would create stories about what I was seeing to help pass the time.
I did lose that joy as I grew up, but now I am retired I am slowly getting it back.
But, I do wonder, how some people, who upon seeing gorgeous, billowing cumulus clouds floating effortlessly overhead, don't just want to explode with joy as I did and still do...
Or who, upon seeing a mighty old oak tree, don't run right up to it wildly screaming, "I love you!"
Or who, upon being caught in the rain, don't blush as each drop gently kisses their skin.
Or who, upon gazing at a star-filled night, aren't paralyzed with awe.
Or who, upon seeing their reflection in a pond, don't cry the happiest of tears.
Do you know what I mean?
I did lose that joy as I grew up, but now I am retired I am slowly getting it back.
But, I do wonder, how some people, who upon seeing gorgeous, billowing cumulus clouds floating effortlessly overhead, don't just want to explode with joy as I did and still do...
Or who, upon seeing a mighty old oak tree, don't run right up to it wildly screaming, "I love you!"
Or who, upon being caught in the rain, don't blush as each drop gently kisses their skin.
Or who, upon gazing at a star-filled night, aren't paralyzed with awe.
Or who, upon seeing their reflection in a pond, don't cry the happiest of tears.
Do you know what I mean?
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