Without feeling its touch,
Is as tort’rous for me as still windmills,
In gales are for the Dutch,
Were I a deciduous tree on the plains,
Or sailor on the sea,
Enveloped in its cleansing soft caress,
I could be happy for eternity,
It’s something I know without pondering,
‘T’sgood to know one’s safe place,
Let’s make a room for each one of us,
That we can call home base,
To escape to.
What would it be for you?
You must first know what makes you feel secure,
Which is knowledge granted to very few.
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