In my dreams I eat and dance.
In my most beautiful fantasys I am a quiet writer on my porch.
I am a ray of sun, warm to the touch.
I am a soft bed after a long day.
A swaying song that sings you lullabys.
The scorching fire blazes in my eyes, full of possibilities and desires; and then burns my heart when I am struck.
Will my smile fade? Will my happy leave my side?
My creativity lacks but my imagination wanders on long walks across ideas in my brain.
May I sleep my dear? Can my eyes close to release me from time that is starving for each second in my day?
I am tired mama. I am a weeping willow tree. I am its everything. I am soil and the bounds of the mind itself.
Can you releve the pressure of just remembering to breathe?
