Birds sing outside, trees sway in the breeze, and I sigh with over-pouring memories of warm hugs and wild embraces, earnest conversations about lofty notions, and a quest for happily ever after.
As soon as I realize I am in the poetry zone, I surface for air. “No, no,” I cry, “I want to drown in there. I want to bask in the words and find new combinations to turn the keys of locked hearts and open them to possibilities.”
I only brushed against the immersion for a moment, but what I saw ignited a hunger for more. As I pack my suitcase, I feel a determination unlike any I have felt before. I will find the place where treasures lie, I will pick them up and polish them to a sheen, and then I will share them with whoever seeks peace and love and foolish cliches and nonsensical worlds beyond this one.
