In the time of love, I am locked in a dungeon. My heart is bleeding from the silver chains. Then, small slight steps approach the bars of hate. Your eyes stared into mine. A fairy-tale with no true beginning.
My mind relaxes with voices dancing around me. Laughter rings like the Bells singing in the morning. The Earth rattles as the sunrise conducts the piece of Spring.
The streams by the park hum a hymn to awaken the woodland creatures. As they dance and prance their morning routine, I lay back and observe.
I observe the picture drawn before me.
This is an image that I have drawn in my head when I remember the mornings of Springtime.