Thursday, February 4, 2010

Missing the most.

The fresh air, I miss the most.
Cold, harsh wind against my face, at high places
like this.

Places where the view, like the waves on the ocean, goes on forever in mountain ranges.

I miss home. On nights like this, would give
to sit on that rock, in the summer sun.
Feel the heat warm my skin.

Sitting in the clouds of home.

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