Footfalls heavy but quiet on worn stone
The soft rubber of my running shoes
Gripping where the rains had fallen
Scent of the newly blooming roses
Redolent in the humid spring air
Their perfume nearly overpowering
Searching amongst the rock and stone
And flowers and verdant growth
For a place of solitude, of quiet
Knowing it exists, that it's near
But always just ever so slightly hidden
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