Why do the cherished moments, the innocent seconds keep fleeing our fingertips? Or, is it only me who misses childhood? Is it only me who misses Paddle Pop in the rain?
I’m ok with being dirt. After all, dirt graced with rain is a scent indescribable, a scent laced with memories and joy, but that doesn’t mean dirt isn’t hurt each time it’s stomped on.
Just Typing 