Places that no longer
exist call you at times.
That’s how you dream of
foggy mountains on
a warm afternoon,
and long for that
neon-lit palace from
the buried slants.
As you feel it,
as though it be
singular or common,
you realize, it was
all while your life
quivering with the
magic of nature and
dance of your soul.
♠
A Journey Called Life ... 
8 responses to “Quivering”
beautiful
Thank you 😊
Beautiful!
Thank you, Elaine. 🙂
As with past lives that present, even fleetingly, when we least expect them. 🙂
Yes, You’re right. 🙂 Thank you, Eric. 🙂
Lovely.
Thank you 🙂