As I lay here,
I begin to imagine
A place I would call perfect.
I imagine an empty beach
With warm, soft sand,
Perfect sized waves
Pounding against the rocky shore line,
Conch and sea shells
Of every shape and size
Scattered across the sand.
I imagine the pinkish orange sunset
Gleaming down on the water,
The sun slowly vanishing,
And the twinkling stars
Coming out to play.
The surrounding palm trees
Begin to sway in the
Cool, summer-night breeze.
I imagine myself drifting away
To the smell of burning wood
And the sound
Of the crackling fire
And tiny waves crashing.
My last thoughts?
This must be Paradise.
