Think of me as an old church: The floors are gone, the walls are moldy and bend with the winds and the rains, the roof allows too much light and too much migratory membership, but every once in a while, there is beautiful music, an inspiring snatch of words, and a reminder of why it was erected in the first place. I can live with this metaphor.
01705 – Metaphor of an Old Church
beautiful(ly) | bend(s) | church(es) | erect(ed) | every once in a while | first place | floor(S) | gone | inspire(d) | light(s) | live(s) | membership(s) | metaphor(s) | migratory | moldy | music | old church | rain(s) | reminder(s) | roof(s) | snatch(es) | think(s) | wall(s) | why | wind(s) | word(s)