We can still

We can still

We can still scamper and scurry around, 

bare-feet in the garden,

We can still  enjoy a day, without entering the complex web  around.

We can still  drink in the pure, unadulterated joy of an evening spent near nature,

We can still  put pen to paper and try to write longhand.

I know its difficult, but not entirely impossible. 

It isn't some miraculous spell, nor any charming swoosh of a wand. 

It's a simple word called choice. 

Just by the way, we still can do, whatever it is that we want.