Letting the scene write itself.

Sitting here, on a wooden bench, the wind blows East and west, a gentle touch it gives to those abode, some are confused in unknown righteousness, and some pray to the creator for safety.

Oh dear stranger I wish I had the guts to talk to you, yet as you swing by with a grin on your face, I become indecisive on whether to talk to you or not.

Hey guys, I have written what I felt sitting and observing my environment.

XOXO Puxila 💖