Every time I Smell fresh baked bread , it remains me the bakery that was very close to my hideout , a small park from where I was able to see my house , down the road about one block way.
From my secret place , I used to ear my mother called for me and also my dog’s barks. I remember touching all the big old trees that offer me a good fresh shadow during the hot summers.
One of the best things ,in my secret place was the taste of the wild fruits within the park , the fresh water in the creek and the colorful birds singing happily all day .
even now after many years passed by , that smell of fresh baked bread still bring those old happy memories , again and again.
No comments:
Post a Comment