The Mini Troubadoura's Love Letter to Nature and Heritage

Seattle, Washington Photo by Mini Troubadoura Nights like these When I still wore plats I would have taken to the streets Not for some illicit scavenger hunt Not for the sake, of stirring the pot      No, just to feel this mist upon my skin,  and this wind whisper in my ear                                             As it is, I find reasons to go outside The trash must go out I must purchase candles and condensed soup My, these doormats need a sweeping Such matronly neglect shall not go unnoticed I must stay out a little longer...... And gulp the air as if I am suffocating For I am suffocating, at times On nights like these When my soul swells as if to burst From the beauty of it all From the sheer ugliness of it all Oh, life is hard when hearts are soft Steals the very breathe from us Reason brings callouses To the budding of dreams And rain weakens roots So, I must tend to these weeds As if it is sane to garden