strolling,
letting the not yet hot breezes of spring
blow 'round me,
i am taken somewhere else,
escaping on the perfume of blossoms
as on a magic carpet,
to a meadow lush and green,
where the heady breath of hyacinth
holds me close,
and i am a boy once more,
on adventures terrible and grand,
saving the world one day
and conquering it the next,
my wooden sword and imaginary allies
at my side,
as the breezes blow the blossom-petals,
a softer snow to surround me,
the stuff of legend
in an ordinary world like this,
where i simply went for a stroll.