Stacey

I spend my days in thoughtful care, Doing the work psychologists share— Listening deep, helping hearts unfold, Turning quiet truths into stories told. But when the sun sets low and soft, My world lifts gently, carried aloft By laughter, family, warm and bright, Where hanging out feels just right. A book in my hand, aromas that rise, Cooking with joy under easy skies— Stirring the pot as chapters..

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