Some days are treasure. Wandering the vales of unmoving time the trees might grow, the rocks might fall and the voice might falter after a day's silence. Some days are crushed sapphire skies and emerald and topaz for a bed Some days are the choice to be homeless for we the fortunate. This oak tree, these firs, they are my walls. These nettles, this wild wheat, they are my larder my playthings. Some days are treasure to remind me that we are all homeless sometimes.
RDP Prompt: Homeless