I love the way oil paint moves on canvas I love the way flowers turn to the sun I love the way grass smells after it has been cut - sweet smell of summer I love to fill pages in my journal I love to write bad poetry I love watching the second hand move on the clock I love to run, I wish my back did too I love to jump in puddles, feeling the water soak right through I love shuffling through leaves and sliding in snow i love to cook spicy mexican food with refried beans and guacamole I love to clean my toilet seat - not many can say that I love to iron freshly dried clothes and smell the sweetness of the wind I love watching the minute hand move on the clock I love to play aeroplanes with children I love to see my novel develop I love to see my snaps on line I love to laugh and cry at life I love to eat veggies straight from the tunnel I love to make jam and pickles and chutneys forever I love watching the hour hand move on the clock Because it means I'm alive Because it means I choose life Because it means death is beaten Because it means I am me

i love
I love the way oil paint moves on canvas I love the way flowers turn to the sun I love the way grass smells after it has been cut – sweet smell of summer I love to fill pages in my journal I love to write bad poetry I love watching the second hand move…



