Some days we can feel less than we have before,
The feelings turn bland, the taste of food is like nothing ,
A day is a day, is a week, is two then three.
Alone, in ourselves , is a prison with walls of time and effort,
You can see the door, see the window, look out and see the day,
The colors of the day rolling by, but lamenting the day clicking by.
Looking through the soul we have, changes can be made, if wanted.
Watching life seems wrong but finding and planning can move mountains.
Gratitude makes it work.
Ralph Peck
Photography by Connie Estes
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