Can't touch this.
The kids, freshly bathed, are giggling down the hall.
Fresh laundry is folded in the basket beside me.
The rain is dripping off the roof.
The windows are open letting in the sweet breeze.
The birds are tweeting in the trees.
Squirrels are giving chase to other squirrels, chirping all the way.
The wind is lapping at the green, wet leaves.
If serenity had a home, this would be it.
Fresh laundry is folded in the basket beside me.
The rain is dripping off the roof.
The windows are open letting in the sweet breeze.
The birds are tweeting in the trees.
Squirrels are giving chase to other squirrels, chirping all the way.
The wind is lapping at the green, wet leaves.
If serenity had a home, this would be it.
3 Comments:
Man, Kathy, I'm coming over to live at your house.
Just kidding-- I've got two kids giggling in the other room,and a third asleep in another. My laundry is never folded, but it's thousands of miles away, so it's okay.
That was just poetry, honey.
One one more step to put folded laundry into actual drawers. But that's the human elements in a moment of astro-perfection.
Sounds like Heaven to me...
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