Last night I
dreamt
About a place
called “Here”
The land was
fertile
The grass,
luscious and effervescent.
The flowers
were plentiful;
Almost
meadow-worthy
The trees were
smooth and the branches
Low enough for
my fingers to caress.
The sky, as
clear as the crystalline water
The brook,
cascading down the hills
It was
mesmerising
It’s melody
playing directly to my soul.
The birds that
dipped their beaks from the posy-ridden banks
Their happy
chirping a perfect accompaniment
To the gushing
water and delicate breeze.
The sun, a
bright dazzling ember
Looking upon
me as a doting mother
Admiring her
newborn.
The fragile
clovers and buttercups
Covering the
grassy slopes,
Tickling my
bare feet as I wander aimlessly through
Endless time
and space.
No deadlines;
no diaries; no sand
Slipping
through my fingers as I clasp them around
The stem of a
dazzling daffodil
Dew drops
glistening on its full and bright trumpet
I pluck it
from the ground and bring it to my nose
Breathing in
its bittersweet aroma and I know,
It cannot
last,
This world of
paradise,
I am not ready
for this place yet.
I replace the
flower
Like a suction
pad upon a wall of tiles it re-attaches
And begins to
thrive once more
For in this
land of plenty, there is no death; no limit.
I hear a
familiar ticking and I know
My time here
is almost over.
I sprint
across the meadow, my eyes scanning the scene
Taking a
mental photograph,
Trying to
memorise this paradise that I can feel
In each of my
senses.
I awake to a dark,
misty morning,
Four walls
enveloping me and a ticking clock beside me
I long to
revisit that Utopia on the other side of my eyelids
Until that
day,
I have only my
memories and
My dreams.