I love

I love the way oil paint moves on canvas

I love the way flowers turn to the sun

I love the way grass smells after it has been cut – sweet smell of summer

I love to fill pages in my journal

I love to write bad poetry

I love watching the second hand move on the clock

I love to run, I wish my back did too

I love to jump in puddles, feeling the water soak right through

I love shuffling through leaves and sliding in snow

i love to cook spicy mexican food with refried beans and guacamole

I love to clean my toilet seat – not many can say that

I love to iron freshly dried clothes and smell the sweetness of the wind

I love watching the minute hand move on the clock

I love to play aeroplanes with children

I love to see my novel develop

I love to see my snaps on line

I love to laugh and cry at life

I love to eat veggies straight from the tunnel

I love to make jam and pickles and chutneys forever

I love watching the hour hand move on the clock

Because it means I’m alive

Because it means

I choose life

Because it means

death is beaten

Because it means

I am me