Oh, to sit and write is such pure delight
When
the sun wards off a chill.
Just
to be outside I am thus supplied
With
the words that wait at will.
All
the passersby needn’t know that I
Jot
my thoughts as they stroll past,
After
taking time to make sure my rhyme
With
the rhythm will hold fast.
Soon
the day will fade with encroaching shade
And
I’ll head indoors to post,
Feeling
grateful that on a bench I sat
At
the spot I love the most.
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