Another Trip Around The Sun
In the day, when mother’s of children were the mothers.
When children of mothers were the children.
When children of mothers weren’t their mothers;
when the world hadn’t been flipped on its head.
In the simple organization of days, time never passed.
All it takes to be that child again
is thought.
just Brilliant,love your picture also
What a beautiful thought my
So touching, so poignant, so true!
Brilliant! ❤️