Dawns mutterings

The apple blossom

As the colours cascade,

through my fractured heart,

I float on the luminescent cloud

of dreams, not partial or weak,

it knows what I seek.

I climb further,

through the heavens grand,

their cotton spores cling,

to my mortal flesh, comforting

me through the warm spring air,

destroying my every care.

I know I could never leave,

this sweet Neverland in the air,

it creates a warmth within,

one that can achieve anything.

My very fears melt into solitude,

dissipating, and enabling 

a sweet sojourn through ineptitude.

I look upon the marble eye,

the glossy surface that hides Atlantis,

the continuous opera of the angels

of the watery deeps blesses my unholy ears,

gracing me with a glimpse of 

their sacred kingdom,

beckoning me to partake

of their underwater merriment.

Now though my gaze is drawn,

to the patchwork quilt peeking

slyly through the dawn,

crying out its own virtues,

the fruits of its arduous labours,

the pink blossom of the apple tree,

does entice me.

I recollect my childhood,

where on those twisted branches,

I clambered, and even stood,

stretching my fragile frame, 

to pick the sweetest of those golden delights,

my mouth would encase their pinkish flesh,

in toothy joy, as its nurturing nectar

dribbled down my soft skin.

This is my epiphany,

I was in Arcadia then.

Now

as I gaze 

upon all that could have been,

I feel,

regret.

So I start my slow descent,

leaving the candy floss of the cloud array,

and all their quiet dreams.

The blossoms greet me,

with all its splendour on display,

and one small petal brushes my tear away,

while the wind whispers

"come and play"