I breathe the beauty of quietude:
Solitary walks in parks or woods,
Foliage brushing against one’s feet,
Early morning sunshine through the trees,
With bird calls punctuating the hush.
I breathe the beauty of quietude,
Of cloudless skies and placid waters,
Of soft breeze blowing against one’s face
Or whipping perfumes among the flow’rs
Gently enough to not let them fall.
I breathe...
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