There's a soft grass field in which I lay.
I close my eyes and breathe in the atmosphere.
The soft wind makes the grass sound like an ocean.

But, it's a bit too dark, isn't it?
I open my eyes to a splash of colors and patterns.
Brown grounded coffee beans.
Orange burnt from the sun.
Tan insides of a tree trunk.
Black like singed ashes.

And green.
The color of life.

The flowers tickle my cheek.
Stroking my face with a gentle touch.
I feel a raindrop fall on my nose.

I giggle softly.
It's going to rain soon, but I don't want to go.
Everything seems tranquil right now.

I close my eyes again.
A soft sound rings nearby mixing into the sounds of the wind.
It's almost putting me to sleep.
I breathe with the motion of the hum.
I wish I can stay here forever.

The sun is so warm against my face.
I feel nothing but the grass brushing against my skin.
I feel the soft hum enter my lungs and back out my half parted lips.
I want to drink this feeling.
This feeling of comfort, of warmth, of security,

of home.

It's so quiet, I feel loved here.
The sun kisses my forehead.
The flowers strokes my cheek.
The grass caresses my body.
the raindrop touches my nose.
The atmosphere drowns me in serenity.
...
But I must get up before the thunderstorm comes.

I take a deep breath in,
and I open my eyes.
I exhale out,
with a long and deep sigh.


"I'll be back soon for you, my kitty."

due to me reaching
that post menopausal age
there's a hirsute carpet
growing on my chin's stage

a goatee  beard adorns
in such distinguishing tone
it's envy of my neighbour
Russell John Stone

over the years he's tried
to cultivate an abundant hair tress
but alas his bare cranium
has borne less and less

since my whiskers
are so prolific in sprouting
I could shave them off
for his wig's touting