Where The Heart Is A Sky

Through the silver sandman’s

lurid arches of night,

tranquil turquoise wings

spread take their soar

and pass the body

beyond every care and concern,

before landing upon

that emerald mountain meadow,

bare feet tingling from the touch of those blades,

which are next to a still cerulean lake,

filled by a waterfall of cascading streams,

ever flowing from a hill of claret boulders,

its effervescent sounds

soothe and entice with strokes of peace.

 

In the air the scent of pine and lavender

twists through the nostrils with their magic,

lift the spirit aloft into the azure canopy

where the heart is a sky,

serene and calm,

quietly hushing every sob.

 

Then slowly immersing in that cool inviting water,

allow its touch to pour over the skin,

softly lost upon its magic floating charms,

life drifting away from any fear.

 

Gradually moving towards

those long gentle waving meadow fingers,

where they are a silky mattress

for gazing upwards where the heart has gone,

across the skin blows a warm zephyr wind,

how it combs the pores and stirs a spell

until willingly surrendering

unto the silence rapture.

 

A golden apple falls from a nearby tree,

and rolls over to where it can

be reached by the hands,

one bite is so intoxicating

with that sweet cider taste,

juices drip smoothly down the throat,

while happiness is carried in its texture

because it opens the eyes

to a lover walking towards where you lay,

perhaps a wish or merely a dream,

but it feels like paradise just the same.