The Valley Torah Scroll

Looking down at my bleeding fingers, It dawns upon me, ripping thorns, Off of flower pedals, hurts me

The cool, crisp air lingers throughout the sunshine-filled pasture.The calm lull of fat cows wafts across the Lilly-filled hills.The majestically-colored pedals flow along crystal-clear streams.The waterlily. The ferns. The deep, rich smell of early spring. I stare at my computer.I shut it off, get into my stone-cold bed, and go to sleep.