i . . .


i see the sun shine

i see the sun set

i see the ocean wide

i see the bird nest

i hear the rain fall

i hear the children giggle

i hear the rooster call

i hear Young men whistle

i smell the cold milk

i smell the worm egg

i smell black ink 

i smell fresh cooked bread

i feel the wind on my face

i feel the Snow in my hands

i feel warmth from the fire place

i feel happiness for another chance

i see

i hear

i smell

i feel 

those what makes it sure that i am real 

those are things that no thief can steal 

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