I imagine walking along the streets of Italy at 6 in the morning
The smell of freshly baked bread and coffee drifting through the air
And directly into my soul
I imagine watching the sunset through the windows
While the bell tolls and the music plays
The pen in my hand turning confusing thoughts into words
YOU ARE READING
Sad souls
PoetryIn this inconsistent world, the only thing keeping me sane are these words I pen on paper •---•---•---•---•---• Poem and prose
