In the sun,
by the river,
far away from city,
and the hustle and the bustle,
and the noise,
and the shouting,
and the knives and the guns,
what a tranquil life it is,
what a beautiful life it is,
and how glorious it is to sit here alone,
and to be blessed by the morning sun,
and under the bluest of skies,
how I delight in the fact,
that there is, no work to be done,
and yet,
if there was, as a writer,
I am free to roam,
and wander and wonder and write wherever I go,
and in these hands, are the skills that I was taught,
by a well remembered and often remembered teacher,
who gave me the best of starts,
and who I remember fondly,
whenever I begin to work and write on something new,
and here, as I sit,
in the glorious sun,
if there is a heaven,
maybe my words will reach my old teacher in heaven and put a smile upon her face,
as she walks across the heavenly skies as an angel,
with her usual grace,
and how greatful I am for her teachings,
because she,
she, gave me all the skills that I need,
to express myself,
and to verbalise my feelings,
and she, she is the reason that I am a writer,
and I will be forever greatful and forever thankful for her guidance and encouragement,
and forever greatful for the wonders of the words that she instilled in me,
and now,
here in the sun, as the words flow forth with a smile upon my face,
I savour every word that I write and think of,
and I say a silent thank you to my teacher,
as great happiness overcomes me,
and great inspiration from the beauty of nature does come.

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