Precious, it’s a word I connect with my childhood. My mum used to tell me I was precious.
I think all babies are precious, they are a miracle. Each time we have a new baby in the family my emotions run haywire and I can hardly believe they’re here and are absolutely perfect. How can nature produce anything so exquisite?
There are few things I count as precious, I’m not interested in jewellery or in what is called a precious metal, gold.
I have a few people whom I class as friends. I think if anyone has those few core people who are there for them in good times and bad that’s all you need.
The ‘friends’ on Facebook aren’t real and the platform has diminished the word friends.
So I’m happy with my precious family and my few real friends.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.16 seconds at 6:27am on Dec 22, 2024 via server WEBX2.