From a balconyFrom a balconyI look on the verdant canopyWhere insects flitterAnd all birds chitterThe sun creeps roundTo emerald leaves foundCoolness prevailsSoon to set sailsThe sun creeps roundTemperatures moundThe earth does spinWhile societies sinMake your own pathTis all that you hathDon't be a ladyThe motivation too shadyRoads don't existTake maps off your listPaths they are madeWhere your foot is laidWalk on…– Robert Pennington Price
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