lingering on the edge of a sunday morning lie in I drowse and wander through a forrest of dream and thought
in my dream I am small, the trees large but not in a threatening way more like that of welcoming elders
they speak in a language of comfort there is other life, busy and invisible bustling about, things I hear but do not see
I walk on a path meandering, touching age oldbark gathering wisdom and strength by osmosis giving love and hope in return, small flowers bloom in my small footsteps, the fragrance uplifting and clean
sunlight dapples the path before me, little dics of pure joy lead me on, to the end of the trees and into grassy dunes covered with and abundance of coloured flowers all with faces set toward the warmth of the mellow sun
in the distance I hear the sea, welcoming me home
the horizon is a golden line in the distance
and the birds sing glorious aria's of happiness
I awake to the kiss of my lover and the smell of coffee and pacakes