The wild flowers,
- the winged teeny weenies,
Our souls, free.
As I walk around the neighborhood and the park in this vicinity, a kind and gentle wind
tenderly caresses my soul. The winged teeny weenies sing and fly past. There are some
kinds which alight on the flowers. I just pray that such environs are preserved and
protected - all parks, gardens and flora and fauna - where kindred souls from all walks of life
can just take flight along with the resilient earth. You know, so, that we can become free some day.
