Garden of Peace

In their dreams, they are always children. The Garden, around them, trees and foliage covering their heads like woodland crowns, and the sweet scent of ripened fruit dangling on the reaching branches smeared all over their cheeks. Garlands of laughter strung among the grasses; the picnics, the golden, sunny skies, the winds of wonder and delight. In their dreams, they are still there, always, waiting. But dreams have consequences, and someday they must wake up.