It’s almost 6:30 p.m.and
I’m writing, again.
I’m present but not here.
I’m escaping,
enveloping myself in pleasantries.
There’s a place
I’d rather be.
It’s a place far from here.
It’s a place that never ages;
time hasn’t touched
it’s tender grounds,
hammered the mountains flat,
or tore it’s trees down.
The pond is still placidly lays,
lily pads wading
over fish, frogs and dragonflies, too.
Crabapple trees drop their apples to ripen
Their scent encompasses the air,
solidifying the imminent change of seasons.
The purple mountains surround the meek, little pond.
The wind whirls around a scent so serene.
As the day passes,
the sky floods her dress with colors.
I can be there,now.
I don’t even need to close my eyes.
8 responses to “Behind My Eyes”
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