Back again here to waste time. It feels intimate of something to idolize. I like it. I don't usually.

A familiar feeling of leisurely plucking daisies. No hard pressed bets. Reminiscence that soothes my tired lungs. It is refreshing to think and feel this way. I remembered those thoughts and softly cradled them in my arms. Solace.

I crave the northern hills where I vented my thoughts on the slopes overlooking and descending. The sweat dripping with each arduous step. The fresh air seemingly isolated, yet blew anew. The unbridled anticipation of something new.

Too early it is to discard your summer skin. These days could have greater meaning. Time hasn't run out, youth is still with us.

All day I sat wondering, "When should I cast away the special candle growing in age"? The hardened wax defiant to melt.

The scent of plains spread before me. The smell of air on a bike ride home. My feet planted on foreign soil. This shall be home.