The Trenches

Where the rubber hits the road.

Where the submit button sends your post.

Where the streets have a name and where the streets have no name.

Where the speech leaves the stage.

Where music hits the listeners ear.

Where hope is received.

Where an experienced is enjoyed and simultaneously joy is exchanged.



…a by-product…

…of one’s romantic waltz in the trenches.

If you own a callus, it was not gifted to you, it was earned.

But you will call it a gift.

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