comfort of home

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My favorite road, the one I picture while writing The stretch between Kimball and Hill Lemon orchards and pine trees I assume row after row West, the ocean will show its horizon if you are lucky
We are taught In this life To keep breathing To continue with moving motion Of our hands correlating with our feet parading helplessly through the streets of wherever it is we call home.
HOME Home is where the heart is. It‘s where I hang my hat. The comfort of my Dad’s chair Is usually where I sat.
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