Tuesday, 3 March 2009

I Could . . .

The day is mine to do as I will, to walk barefoot on damp earth, or to feel the wind whip through my hair, or to stroke a friendly dog, or a purring cat.

I could bake a cake, plant flowers, sit under a tree and read a book, I could fly a kite, see shapes in the clouds, listen to birdsong, hug someone, smile, laugh and chat.

I could lay back and listen to music, plan and dream, or do something useful, I could clean, polish, wash, organise things, put things away, redecorate, paint a picture, write a poem, notice the sounds outside my window.

Or I could worry.

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