Daily Dose: The Bones of J.R. Jones, “Hearts Racing”

That time we found our kinfolk, running down a meadow still soft with folded grass as the daisies chained themselves into a crown.

That time we snapped our fingers, and they didn’t make a sound but the sight of the attempt was something so much more profound.

That time when life was simple, and things were sorted out in kind.

When time was just a concept that we paid no mind.

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