Everyone has a place. A place to retreat, to escape, to feel whole, to go when all all else fails. Maybe it's in the mind, maybe it is only visited once a year, maybe it is behind a seldom closed door, away from noise, or the most raucous place one can think of.
My place is simply perfect for me.
Lilly pads greet me with their easy lilting perspective and I am lit from within. I walk past them with a spritely spirit, taking in the different earthen perfumes of the day. The sun sparkles through the openings in the canopy of leaves above. The trees bow and sway, creating a pathway for me to follow in the sunbeams that peak through... as if leading me somewhere. I follow the sunbeams. The sounds of the forest are my private symphony. I arrive at the top, the sunbeams have led me well. My place. It is beautiful, serene. Nothing but an abandoned tower, some dirt, trees, and me. I spin, twirl, and climb the tower. This is where I find repose, This is my place. What is yours?
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