bask in the rosy twilight glow I
could return to the little place I visit in my
head of cabbage, past fields of lilies burning
bright, the forest shines on in a silver ribbon,
slaying me with a single breath, a word
never spoken until now. hear me, gentle dreamer,
I tell a tale that never was and
ever will be a myth, a dream, a flight of
fancy in my head, daring not to speak
aloud for fear if letting this moment bleed
leeching it from memory and feeling the
sand slip through your fingers like so many
other memories lost and left for dead.
you see the wavering sea of grass unfold
before you, torn as the pages of your
book, unwritten just yet until the
moment of release, skipping a beat
in time to the tune of streaming sunlight
over dappled hills of moss and lavender,
fire-lit roses and bells of coral
sing you to sleepy seeds that wait
in the shadows of your dreams