WHAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF…

I dream with the flowers in my garden
And smell their fragrance when the wind blows
It is a cold fall though,
Golden leaves dance around
Covering the grounds of my soul

But there is this tree,
The one all fired up
When the sunlight
Shines above

I stop and sigh
Completely in awe
Perhaps, just perhaps
The memory still lives
In a hidden drawer
Of the dreamer, I used to be

 

 

 

Image Credit:Ann Baratashvili
https://www.behance.net/gallery/32432307/The-Little-Prince-illustrations-2

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