Evening at the field

The grass whispers to me
In that silent evening
When there’s no other soul left to listen

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Appreciate

The grass is always greener
There across the other side
I always peek through the wall
To see
I closed my eyes
To feel
To imagine what it’s like being there

Often I asked
“Why can’t it be the same for me?”

Somehow God made it in a way
That I see perfection
In what that’s not mine
But it never occured to me
The work to maintain such field

I keep my problems and worries to myself thank you
To you your own
To me my own