If home were a meadow,
the carpet would be soft and dewy.
Your eyes would sparkle under the lights and
we would have all the time in the world
with nowhere to go, nowhere to be.
No one would miss us or need us or know us
and we could count the leaves and the stars and the clouds
and wait for the hours to pass by.
We would time travel on our blanket laid out in the grass
and sing songs that only we know.
Remember nights long gone and prayers kept
and breathe in the fragrant air.
Among the flowers and hidden from view,
I hear the birds chirping overhead, chirping their morning tune.
So we'll go playing where waves crash and stories abound,
and I'll love wasting the seconds with you.
About the Creator
Writing for fun and as an escape from the everyday. After all, what is life for if not to create?
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