Babies. That’s what that word brings to mind. Specifically, my precious little one, so many years ago now but how can it seem like only yesterday? I swear I can inhale and still smell that unforgettable baby smell. So many afternoons of laying on the couch with her on my chest, head tucked beside my cheek and me just breathing her in. That scent just reaches in and wraps right around your heart, I swear.
Where does the time go?
In light of the distinct lack of babies around these parts, I looked elsewhere for inspiration. During a break in the rain today, I went out for a drive, knowing exactly where I was going, and found my shot …
One of my favourite roads to explore. It’s gorgeous and incredibly quiet. So quiet that the crunch of gravel under your feet sounds like gunshots in the stillness.
The poem is, for the most part, a stream setting … but that’s okay. There’s a stream running right along the left hand side here. Honest.