I can almost see the trees as they bend forward, bowing down to the wind as it passed by I can almost hear it as it weaves around the fading hills. I can hear it’s gentle cry as it calls for me to come back to where I belong. I can almost taste the rain as it falls gently down upon my skin, like a longing message; begging, pleading for my return. Every morning, I step out and smell the dewy mornings and the spring flowers. But it’s nothing but Illusion. All that passes is black, white and grey. Tall shadows loom over me and as each day goes into the west. I sigh and let myself fall into a world where tall hills stretch out for miles and miles; and bright colours fill the sky at the farewell of an old day, and the greeting of a new one. Birds are calling from far away, and the sudden urge to return is there once more. As I lay down, I delve further into my world of memory. I know that I've been called home, and someday, I'll return.