For me the beautiful garden is real. It’s not imagination.
For me watching the beautiful wisteria first thing in the morning is magical.
For me waking up on a rainy day is peaceful.
For me imagining blossoms on the bare cherry blossom is easy.
For me the Christmas cactus is snow.
For me the Gooseberry is drama.
For me the spring is life.
For me being laid back is being purposeful.
For me the clouds and the gloom is sleep.
For me being an idiot is being home.
For me being nothing is being me.
For me being me is being worthwhile.